Time to Jump
by RosygV
Summary: Finn intercepts them and even though he wants to hug her too, he refrains at hearing the priest's words. "Speak now or forever hold your peace." "Go!" he tells her with a big thumbs-up, and Rory, ready, steps into the hallway. This is for love, for life, for happiness, and for her. "I Object." Post-Revival.
1. I

**AN: I had to get this out of my system as soon as i re-watched the revival. their story cannot be left like that. i hope you love.**

* * *

She lies in her unmade bed, caressing her almost 6-month baby bump tenderly. She has a sonogram picture in her left hand, and Logan's wedding invitation in the other hand. Although surprised to receive it at first, she quickly deduced that it hadn't been her former lover the one who sent it, but instead Colin, Robert, Finn, or even Honor, who Rory kept a slight contact with through the years. The invitation arrived in early December, with a non-signed note, which read, "Choose wisely. Follow your heart," printed. It is now February, barely a month left for the wedding, and she still hasn't the guts to call Logan and tell him he has impregnated her. She misses him terribly, and has finally gotten to admit she's _irrevocably crazy in love_ with the Huntzberger heir, but as much as she loves him she doesn't want him to risk everything for her, not after she rejected his proposal all those years ago. Her phone rings loudly, and she reaches for it lazily.

"Go for Gilmore," she answers, not noticing if it's her personal phone, or her work phone.

"Your icy tone hurts my down under heart, love," an Australian accented voice said through the line, "But I guess it was to be expected."

She smiles, albeit a small one.

"It's nice to hear from you, Finn," she says sincerely, moving her hand up and down her stomach, "To what do I owe the pleasure?" she wonders, remembering their hasty September goodbye. She hears him exhale loudly.

"What did I say about choosing wisely and following your heart?" he asks her, revealing himself to be the emissary of the wedding card. She should've guessed.

"Oh, Finn, I can't do anything," she tells him defeated, tears forming in her eyes, "He could've called the engagement off on several times, but he didn't."

"That's because you didn't ask him to," Finn retorts dryly, "You know he would drop everything with just even a look from you."

Her pregnancy hormones kick in, and she explodes in anger.

"Why did I have to call all the shots, huh? If he loved me he could've ignored my stupid arrangements and go for it, but no, and now it's too late! He's gonna marry the perfect trophy wife with the perfect pedigree his freaking parents chose for him, and he'll run HPG from London and he'll succeed even more than he already has, and he'll have the perfect little life according to the _perfect dynastic plan_ while I'm in the other side of the pond broke, jobless and raising _his child_ he doesn't even know I'm carrying!" she puts her hand on her mouth in an instant, already regretting letting the words slip into her rant. Finn holds a breath.

"You're pregnant, love?" he asks in disbelief, while tears start rolling down her face.

"Surprise," she says silently, followed by a lifeless chuckle, "I've meant to call him every single day to tell him, but every time I do, I remember how good he's doing now, and it kills me to realize I can't ask him to abandon it all."

"He'll never be completely happy without you by his side, and now that I know your secret, you have got to tell him; it could change everything Rory. If you don't, you'll regret it for the rest of his or her life," She looks down to her bump, her innocent baby who doesn't deserve all the crap she had.

"I know, Finn," she sobs, heartbroken.

"Do what's right Ror," he advices, "I hope to see you soon," he lastly says, and hangs up, leaving her alone with the mess that's her mind. She stays silent for a couple of minutes, and then she stands up, determinate. She grabs her phone, and calls her mom.

"Hey sweets, 'sup?" Lorelai says.

"I can't stay still and let him go," Rory states, examining her bump, "Go to London with me?" she asks, hopeful, _and_ decided, _and_ scared, and _in love_.

Lorelai sighs in the other side of the line, worried about Rory's abruptness, but also happy for the new door opened for her grandchild's future. The older Gilmore opens the laptop she has in front of her, and starts looking for flights.

"I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

He paces around the back room at St. John's Church. He clutches an almost empty glass of scotch, and holds his phone in the other hand. He dials Rory's number, and waits for her to pick up, but it goes straight to voicemail for the thousandth time. He swears frustrated, then throws his phone across the room, and the breaking sound is loud enough for his sister Honor to barge into the room.

"What the hell little brother?" She screams at him, but at seeing his pained expression, she shuts her mouth and runs to hug him, as if they were kids again. She feels his shoulders slump, and his arms holding on to her for support.

Honor breaks the hug and looks him straight in the eye.

"What the hell, bro? You don't love Odette, Logan," she tells him seriously, "She's even realized it, she's not that dumb, so why are you going through with it?" She asks loudly, not caring if her daddy dearest might enter any minute now. Logan remembers that fateful September night, when Rory had also questioned his marriage decision.

"It's the dynastic plan," he answers weakly, unable to justify his actions anymore. "It's what's expected, sis."

Where was the recklessness, the bravery he used to have when he was young and stood up against his father? Where had it gone? Instead, all's left is the shell of a dutiful son, entering a life he absolutely didn't want. At least his love for Rory wouldn't fade, married man or not.

Honor, guessing the mess that were his thoughts, knows better than to argue with him, so she just kisses his cheek and walks out of the room, only to be ambushed by Colin and Finn, the rambunctious duo that were Logan's best friends. Honor also knew better than to put a society smile for them.

"Hello love," Finn greets in his suave way.

"How is our _honor_ ary sister in this fine British day?" Colin wonders with glee. Honor raises an eyebrow.

"How can you be so cheery? This day is crap," she pouts as she lights a cigarette, Shira Huntzberger be damned. The pair crosses amused looks.

"We are quite cheery today because we just received an unexpected phone call," Colin starts, being interrupted by the Australian.

"I told you I was 85% sure it was a done deal," he whines at his friend, earning Honor's curiosity.

"What are you guys talking about?" She demands, scared at the possibility of them pulling a ridiculous stunt today of all the days.

"We're talking about a late Christmas miracle, love, a really late, really incredible miracle," Finn states, and proceeds to whisper something into her ear.

Honor's expression changes from confused, to surprised, to utterly stun, to utter excitement.

"You're shitting me," she exclaims, and at seeing their serious expression, she gapes, and cracks her first real smile through the whole wedding week. Pieces were falling into place.

* * *

She thanks the limo driver Colin had arranged for them Gilmore girls, and gets out of the car as careful as her heavily pregnant body allowed her to. She isn't even seven months pregnant, but her swollen ankles are killing her, and her back aches terribly since spending eight hours cramped on that tiny plane seat. Her dress is tight around her stomach, and she feels like crying and blowing this whole thing off, but she's already called the guys, and for God's sake, she's there. _In London_. Owning up to her mistakes. Chasing the _love of her life._

The church is beautiful, and old, she notes, with that fancy air the Huntzbergers aim to exude in everything they did. She feels a hand in her shoulder just as her baby kicks her, as if a kick could take all her problems away.

"You're ready kid?" Lorelai asks, holding her daughter's phone to check any upcoming text. Rory swallows, and takes a step up the marble stairs.

"It's my turn to jump, Jack," she mutters under her breath.

* * *

Finn and Colin, seated next to a nervous Honor, watch as Odette reaches her place at the altar, and takes Logan's reluctant hand. The priest stands up.

"Dearly beloved, we're gathered here today to witness the union of Logan Elias Huntzberger and Odette Élise Lafontaine in holy matrimony."

Honor crosses silent words with the guys, and understanding, they abandon their seats, and go on to exit the church.

* * *

He stares at his fiancée, whose eyes are fixed on the wall, clearly emotionless to the whole ordeal. As much as he tries to hate her, she was as much as the victim as Logan was, both just pawns to their fathers' game of power and money.

He thinks of Rory, and sends all of his love to her, hoping for the universe to let her be happy, and let him continue with the life he was born to fulfill. With a heavy, but quiet sigh, Logan closes his eyes for a millisecond, and, as he turns to face Odette, he lets Rory go, at last.

He tries to concentrate in the ceremony, but suddenly, screaming is heard throughout the church, coming from the outside.

Logan aims to ignore them, but then, he gasps. He knows that voice.

* * *

"What do you mean we can't enter? We must enter!" Rory exclaims angrily, frowning at the security guard blocking her access to the church. Time was running out.

"I'm sorry Miss, but I have clear instructions of not letting anyone through during the remaining of the ceremony," the guard speaks, not even looking her to the eye.

"But we were invited, see hot stuff?" Lorelai shoves the invitation into his face, done with the guard's attitude, "Punctuality ain't our forte my friend, so excuse us but we need to get in right now, and I don't care about the etiquette required in British weddings, these heels are killing me!"

The guard pointedly ignores them, and Rory, getting desperate, tries to sneak pass through him unsuccessfully, and ending up being shoved away. Lorelai catches her before she falls down.

"Hey lacking-of-manners-even-though-you're-British-asshole! That is my _pregnant_ daughter you're shoving, so take your hands off her before I jujitsu your ass!"

"You don't even know jujitsu mom!" Rory whispers to her. Lorelai sends her a glare.

"It's calling bluffing, Lorelai Leigh, a millennia old legendary war tactic that has saved me from countless deadly encounters in my almost half a century of life!" She screeches into her ear, and turns to face another facedown with that stupid guard.

* * *

"…That is my _pregnant_ daughter you're shoving…!" Colin eyes widen as he listen Rory's mother rant. He looks at Finn.

"Rory's pregnant?" he asks him, and due to his friend's expression, he instantly knows he already knows. The priest aims to speak again.

"Not the time for explanations, mate!" Finn exclaims, rushing him to the doors.

"So before we get on with anything, if there's any objection as to if these two shall marry, _speak now or forever hold your peace._ "

Colin and Finn get to the doors just in time, and while they _do_ successfully sneak up the guards' noses, they have a hard time pulling the doors. Finally, they open them and let the sound come in clear as crystal into the building.

* * *

"Speak now, or forever hold your peace."

"…That is my _pregnant_ daughter …!"

He recognizes Lorelai's voice as her statement reaches his ears. He immediately goes white. Pregnant?

* * *

Rory notices the opening in the door, and while her mother is verbally abusing the security guard, she slips into the church, and literally bumps into a man's body. Colin's, who glances at her bloated stomach and has a literal jaw drop.

"God bless the bump!" he exclaimed in a mocking British accent while he hugs her quickly.

Finn intercepts them and even though he wants to hug her too, he refrains at hearing the priest's words.

"Speak now or forever hold your peace."

"Go!" he tells her with a big thumbs-up, and Rory, ready, steps into the hallway.

This is for love, for life, for happiness, and for _her._

"I Object."

* * *

He sees her before she speaks, and he's sure he's going to cry.

Her dark hair is longer now, falling in ringlets over her shoulders. Her eyes are sparkling, either for tears or for a light trick. Her skin glows like she's never glowed before in her life, even thought she glowed for him every time they were together. He then gets to see her body. Her dress fits her body like a glove, and then there it is, in the middle of her stomach, a bump. An obvious baby bump. Apparently, the universe heard his prayers. The entire church turns to her, but she doesn't seem to notice. Her blue eyes are fixed on him, and as she puts her hands over her stomach, he lets go of Odette's hand.

"I Object."

He's moving towards her even before she finishes to utter those two words that have created a chain reaction. He walks up the aisle, ignoring Mitchum shouting at him, Shira being in the verge of fainting, Honor grinning at the pregnant brunette, and Odette, who, lost in translation, can't help but sadly smile: smile at his fiancé walking away from her, and smile at the clearly pregnant woman with the guts the size of the Eiffel Tower to pull off something like this. It was an ode to true love.

He reaches her, but she doesn't touch her, instead, her admires her. If this is a dream, don't wake him up.

" _Ace_ ," he says with the devotion of a prayer.

"Logan," she answers.

"You're here," he states.

She exhales.

"It was my turn to jump," she says back.

He moves his hands to her stomach. The baby kicks, she cries.

"You're pregnant."

"I am, and just for the record, it is yours," she clarifies, and even in his shock, he laughs in disbelief.

"I think that was implied, if not you wouldn't be crashing my wedding," the "my" rolls of his tongue so easily, she can't but stiffen.

"Is it still your wedding?" she asks, and suddenly the world she's blocked out comes crashing down to her. The elite scrutinizing the wedding crasher, the Huntzbergers seething at her, the Lafontaines not having a clue of what's happening, and of course, the bride left at the altar. She cannot breathe.

Logan takes her hand. Pieces fall into place.

"Not anymore," his answer is like a breath of fresh air after spending a minute underwater. He feels like life.

They have time to figure everything out. They've always had.

They close up on each other. They're going to kiss. Only they don't.

Rory falters. She screams in pain. Before she articulates his name, she falls. The bells chime.

 **TBC (?)**


	2. II

**I feel like a spoiling mother, but inspiration hit me again.** **dm if you want to pour your heart out about this. i** **loved the demand, so here's the reward.**

It's like a scene in slow motion. He watches her body slip away from his, her warmth lost as fast as it was gained. Her knees shake, and then she's on the floor, holding on to her stomach. Her cry starts low, but soon escalates to a full-blown wail in pain. Logan stays frozen for a second, unable to process what's happening, but it takes the sight of a thin trail of blood going down her leg to take him out of his shock. He's instantly on the floor trying to calm her down, but with no luck whatsoever as to do so. Her skin's gone whiter than her usual, and her eyes look lost, unfocused.

"Somebody call an ambulance!" he shouts to the guests. They were all so filthy loaded; they sure could own at least one phone.

"This shouldn't be happening," she says frantically, as another wave of pain crosses her abdomen. Her baby still has another three months of unborn development; it shouldn't be rushing to be here, "It's not the time. Not yet."

"Everything's going to be fine, Ace," he tries to reassure himself more than her, because not even almost dying in Costa Rica has got him as scared as he feels right now for the child inside Rory.

Her pain doesn't seem to mellow, but her consciousness does.

"Lo…Logan," her voice becomes a murmur; she's trying, but the dark spots in her vision threaten to take over, "Don't let anything… don't let her…" she doesn't finish the sentence, and for the first time in her thirty-two years, Rory Gilmore faints.

With that, time picks up.

* * *

After not giving a damn anymore and throwing a punch to the jackass guard's jaw, Lorelai presences the show at the first row.

Her daughter objecting, her daughter reuniting with Logan, her daughter falling in pain to the floor.

Motherly powers turned on, Lorelai appears by her daughter side at light-speed velocity, and noticing the blood on the floor, she goes uncharacteristically speechless. The unbent, unbowed, unbroken Lorelai Gilmore the Second seems to almost break down, but after a deep breath, she focuses. She was never weak. She's sure as hell she ain't gonna start now. The older brunette and the blond in the tuxedo cross looks, both guessing each other's thoughts.

Get her the hell out of here.

* * *

His brain goes into a kind of tunnel vision. Keep Rory and the baby safe. The ambulance comes and he leaves in it, clutching Rory's motionless hand, but it goes unnoticed by him the fact that it is Colin who calls more than a dozen ambulances, offers to buy the first three, and then threatens to sue the hospital if they don't get here on time; it takes less than ten minutes for the street to be blocked by a barricade of ambulances, sirens on and all. He ignores that it's Finn who hovers around them and blocks everyone who isn't involved in their mess out of their way, and he sure as hell doesn't notice his sister blowing off her parents and going after the emergency party with a mostly unexpected companion. No, Logan just follows Lorelai and the paramedics into the ambulance. He still doesn't acknowledge when they cross half of London to reach the best hospital money can get.

He's fixed on his Ace. And on the monitor signaling the beating of an unborn heart.

* * *

Honor attempts to get a cab and follow Colin and Finn – who left in one of the dozen ambulances after a hefty bribery – to whatever hospital Rory was taken, but as she says goodbye to her husband and children, a heavy hand glues her to her spot on the church. Daddy Dearest is livid, judging by the stony look on his face, and Shira's smoking, but meh, she'd seen that coming. Honor gives them her best-sweetened smile.

"I know we haven't seen each other in ages, but as of now I need to get quite going," Mitchum doesn't let go of her arm, so she tears down her façade.

"I'm going with Logan, dad, so back off," she shoves his hand out of the way. Her heels click with the walking, but Daddy doesn't back down.

"Good, go to him, and get him the hell back here so we can save the rest of the wedding," the tone he uses stops her daughter, and makes her turn to him. If looks could kill, Mitchum Huntzberger would surely be dead.

"Logan's definitely not getting married," she seethes, "Is your eyesight faltering, or didn't you see him leaving with the _very pregnant love of his life_? It's over dad; your _so-called dynastic plan_ is a fiasco."

Shira looks in the verge of a break down.

"Sweetie, that Gilmore girl isn't up to the Huntzberger name, besides, if she fooled around with Logan she was surely fooling around with somebody else."

"Are you talking from experience mother, or have you watched Dad cheat on you so many times you have a college major on the subject?" You do not mess with Honor Huntzberger. You simply do not.

"…Rory Gilmore is the mother of _your grandchild_ , who, judging by what just happened, could be in serious danger, but of course, all your worries are placed on continuing to force two people who don't love each other together against their will, for the sake of adding more money to your already humongous bank accounts," her parents stay silent, unable to think of a tying comeback, so she takes it as her cue, "You despise me, my biological bringers, so if you'd excuse me, I must get a cab in this hellish city that can cross…" she checks her phone for the address of the hospital, "…oh, only half of London in the shortest amount of time possible!"

"Our driver will take us."

The three stunned Huntzbergers turn and stare to a very eager Odette Lafontaine.

"Excuse me, what?" Honor blurts out, unbelieving.

"You heard me well," Odette picks up the tail of her dress, and nonchalantly rips it off to allow more mobility, "You need to go to the hospital, I want to go to the hospital, and my car happens to have diplomatic traffic flags, so it's a win-win situation."

"But you're getting married, my dear," Shira chimes in, and Honor swears she can see Odette's eyes glowing red.

"Honestly Shira, â _rretez avec ta merde_ already, I have a beau too you know, back in Paris," at the older blonde's horrified expression, she smirks, "And right now what I want to do is go and be there for a dear friend. Oh, and also meet Rory Gilmore. That is been a long time coming."

* * *

She drifts through a sea of blinding light. Her consciousness comes and goes, and her ears pick up sirens, car hunks, a beep, and her mother's voice mixed together. Her stomach hurts, her head hurts, her entire body hurts,and if she tries to move, the pain increases. She opens her eyes but she's blinded yet again. Lorelai hovers over her face.

"I'm so glad you're up kid, I swear I thought you were going all Quinn Fabray at the Glee sectionals," she caresses her daughter's head. Rory grunts.

"Singing and being pretty?" Rory mumbles, dizzy.

"More like freaked out and scream-ish."

A second voice chimes in, the voice she wants to hear so desperately.

"So good to hear you're catching pop culture, Ace," his hand caresses her stomach.

"Logan, you're here," she mumbles again, why isn't her body strength back? Oh right, she fainted. She tries to talk, but a spasm of pain gets her back and up the stretcher.

"Somebody hook me up!" she moans angrily, putting a hand over her abdomen, "I swear I'll get back to you kid, just wait 'till you're in high school!"

Her pain and strength subdue, and she goes back to the dizzy-by-pain state.

The ambulance arrives to the hospital, but by then the clouds haven't shown a single silver lining.

Her contractions worsen, and so does the pain.

She slips again, and she feels hot, very hot for London.

Where is everybody?

She must look agitated, because Logan magically appears from thin air.

"How are you feeling Ace?" he asks, and if she could, she'd rolled her eyes.

"Like I've just been run over by a hundred SUV's. Their fingers intertwine.

"I'm supposed to have more time," she says quivering, "I'm supposed to be ready, too."

Logan chuckles. "I think no woman is ever ready for labor."

"Not talking about the miracle that's giving birth," she loses the hold of her words as they get her out of the ambulance and into the hospital; she speaks again, "I'm not ready to be a mom."

"… I was finally back on track, with the book and saying goodbye, but then she happened and I wished I could hate her but I hate myself instead because she's not even here yet and I haven't been able to stop being a screw-up," she hears the nurses and the doctors and smells antiseptic, but all she can see is Logan, "and I kind of want to hate you too, but I obviously do not hate you because if I did I wouldn't have crashed the wedding and objected and made my life a serialized soap-opera and I'm so relieved you're here with me and not there even though I waited all this time to tell you you're being a dad and now she's coming but it's not right and I'm _so scared_ Logan, what if I lose her? She'll all I have."

The doctor calls for an emergency C-Section. Rory and her baby need to be rushed into the surgery room as soon as possible.

He kisses her forehead, and both of her cheeks, and then her lips, and he doesn't care the doctor and Lorelai both want to tear him off her right now, he needs this, they both do.

"You won't lose her Rory," the use of her name brings tears into both of their eyes, "Just as you won't lose me either."

They take her away, but before they cross the doors, she calls him.

"Logan?"

"Yes?"

"It's a girl."

He loves her, _he absolutely loves her._

"I know Ace, I know."

* * *

Logan takes a seat next to Lorelai. Her hands are tight around an empty cup of coffee, and her eyes a rimmed with red. She doesn't want to talk to him. He does.

"How far is she?" "Seven months."

"Was she planning on telling me?" "She wanted a right place and time."

"Is she happy?" "As happy as she can be."

"Do you hate me?" "Depends, do you plan to bail on her?"

"No." "Can I trust you?" "Yes."

"Then I hate you a 50% less than I previously did."

"So we're down to 100% hate."

"Yes, we are."

* * *

They wait for what it feels like hours.

* * *

Colin brings food, and Finn brings booze; he takes a bite, and Lorelai takes a swing.

"Hey Logan?"

"Yes, Finn?" he answers, a bit annoyed at his friend. He knew about his baby, and he didn't tell him a thing.

"I'm sorry, but it wasn't my place to tell," the Australian sounds sincere. He sighs.

"I know," he gives a small smile, and Finn looks relieved. Colin frowns.

"I'm still getting to be the godfather, right?"

"Keep dreamin', mate."

* * *

"Luke? It's Lorelai. I know it's short notice, but you have to fly over here. It's about Rory."

* * *

Honor brings her bubbling optimism, congratulates him for his upcoming daughter (!) and then her companion reveals herself. Logan is speechless. Odette is amused.

"O?" he asks in disbelief. She's still in her wedding dress, but her hair is out of her fancy up-do, and her heels are dangling in her hand. She rolls her eyes at him.

"First you impregnate a girl behind my back, then you don't tell me, as we had agreed to if we had a situation like this, and finally you leave me at the altar? How is this marriage thing going to work?" she chuckles, and he chuckles, and there's no tension between them, only understanding, and friendship. Their relationship was strictly platonic, never romantic nor sexual. They never intended to last.

"The wedding did cost a shit-load," he tells her later at the cafeteria, as they plan how to avoid their families from now on.

"It's a good thing we're over-privileged heirs with tons of shit-loads to waste, and crappy fathers to eternally annoy," she tells him back, and smiles. He does, too.

* * *

Emily Gilmore is _outraged._

"She's seven-months pregnant and currently in labor as we speak? Lorelai Victoria Gilmore!"

Lorelai is getting a headache.

"It wasn't my secret to tell mother, cut me some slack!" she mentally apologizes to her iPhone for all the verbal abuse he's suffered for the past ten minutes.

"I'm taking a plane today," Emily announces.

"I didn't expect any less," her daughter retorts, but smiles, "She'll love to have you here mom."

Emily then wishes Richard were still alive; he would've loved to meet his great-granddaughter.

"Thanks for the call, Lorelai, I'll call back to tell you all the details."

"Can't you text or e-mail them? Calls are not my preferred cup of tea."

"Don't stress me, Lorelai."

"Okay, mother, I'll see you soon. Bye."

* * *

The doctor comes out into the waiting room, with a tired, but context expression on.

"Family of Lorelai Gilmore?"

Logan, Lorelai, Colin, Finn, Honor, and Odette stand up at the very second.

One of the nurse snorts. Apart from the blond and the blue-eyed lady, the rest are clearly not the patient's family.

The Gilmore group awaits, expectant.

"Miss Gilmore had a stress-induced early labor, with some other complications along the way, but after performing the C-section, we managed to safely deliver the baby," the entire party releases a breath they didn't know were holding, "Although being premature, she'll have to spend at least two more months in the incubator, just to be sure she develops fully."

"So they're both out of danger?"

"As of right now, yes."

Lorelai releases a gleeful sob, and hugs Logan, who's equally as teary as her. Honor squeals, Colin, and Finn take celebratory shots, and Odette cheers in French.

Logan gets back to the doctor.

"How's Rory?"

"Tired, and quite knocked out by the epidural, but overall fine, she'll recover quickly." The doctor squints at him. "You're the father."

No shit Sherlock.

"I am, why?"

The doctor smiles.

 _"She has your eyes."_

Logan grins.


	3. III

**This story is coming closely to it's end. quick, someone send it to ASP before she writes the next script.**

Her mother is sound asleep on the guest couch; there are flowers and pink balloons, courtesy of Colin and Finn, over the night table next to her bed. Logan is nowhere to be found. She still hasn't seen her baby. The C-section is a blurry period in Rory's head. She remembers the anesthesia, the doctor giving Lorelai a run for her money with his fast-paced talk, and then, minutes later, a small cry. A life. Her daughter. They put the tiny human in her arms, and for a second, she felt bliss; they took her away in an instant, she felt numb. She's hungry, her butchered abdomen aches, and she's extremely uncomfortable without the weight of another person inside of her, but she's done it. She stopped the wedding, she gave birth, and she's a mother. The newest addition to the Gilmore clan exists in the same building, but Rory's in bed rest until further notice.

She feels his presence at the door. Everything that day happened so fast she wasn't able to admire him correctly. His blond hair is a little bit longer, spikier, resembling his college days, but his face is thinner, and he has slight bags under his eyes. He's still in his tuxedo, and at seeing her awake, his brown eyes twinkle.

"I've never had so many mixed feelings about you laying on a hospital bed," he blurts out, entering the room, but keeping his distance to her. He's unsure as to how to proceed.

"This situation definitely qualifies for a pro/con list," she motions him to come over her, she needs him close. He sits on the edge of the bed.

"Pro: you're okay," Logan says.

"Con: I went into early labor due to a long period of internalized stress," Rory comments, "Pro: we have a daughter."

"Con: you never called me throughout your pregnancy to break the news, but you decided the perfect time and place to tell me was to crash into a church full of old-money vipers and the Dark Lord himself," he attempts to avoid sounding angry, but truth, he kind of is.

Rory bits her lip. She's ashamed, and she can't keep her shields up anymore.

"Do you wish I hadn't crashed it?" Her voice cracks, exhaustion and sadness pouring through it.

"Coming was the best thing you could've done," he starts, "But c'mon Ace, we can't ignore the elephant in the room."

"I didn't gain that much weight, Huntzberger."

" _Rory._ "

Time to face the music.

"What do you want me go say Logan?"

"I want you to tell me how you feel."

"But Vegas..."

He huffs in annoyance.

"C'mon Ace, Vegas was the shitty excuse we used to act like we were kids and in Yale again, but for god's sake, we're adults, we're parents, we have to act like it."

"I'm sorry I ever suggested it."

He grabs her hand.

"I'm sorry I went along with it."

She runs her fingers through her hair. This shouldn't be this hard.

"Can you believe it's been almost ten years? It took me ages to think I was finally getting over you, to make myself believe I wasn't miserable without you, but then we bumped into each other at Hamburg, and seeing you, touching you, kissing you again made me realize what an idiot I was for turning you down. I was young, and stupid, and scared and selfish..."

"And I didn't leave much of a room to talk and settle on something, after all it does takes two to tango."

As much as she's cried in this short span of time, her eyeballs don't seem to ever get dry.

"I love you," she mumbles.

"I never stopped," he takes the risk, and kisses her passionately. Their last kiss was one of defeat, of goodbye, but this, this feels like a new chance, like renewal, like hope. She breaks the kiss and rests her forehead against his.

"I don't want us to start anew, we've wasted so much time already," she whispers.

Logan envelops her in a hug, and kisses her hair.

"Whatev..." she cuts him off and rambles.

"But I also don't want to rush into things and lack of communication, I mean lack of communication was what broke us up in the first place, and you have a lot of stuff to work out with HPG and your dad and oh my god, Odette! You left her at the altar for me..." Logan shuts her up with a kiss, a really efficient kiss.

"Look Ace, I think things are past rushed by now, the baby in the NICU proves it, and I won't lie, Mitchum is going to make this hella difficult for me, but my only focus are you and the baby, and nothing else matters," she smiles against his chest, "I think we have to prioritize."

"And what's first on your list Huntzberger?"

"Meeting our newborn daughter."

* * *

Colin sneaks out the hospital as Lorelai engages a heated argument with Finn about the existence of the Tasmanian Demon in the Gold Coast. He takes out a cigarette and his phone, and while he lights it up, he presses his first speed dial.

"Hello?"

"Hey sweetheart," Colin greets, and puffs.

"Baby, how are you?" Stephanie Robson-McCrae answers tiredly, but content with his husband's voice. She cradles her three month-old baby into her chest, "How was the wedding? I hope you sent Logan all my love and my apologies, and if he's mad at me, just tell him to blame his godson. Or Finn. Both answers will work just fine."

He laughs at his amused wife. He misses her so much, already.

"I am terrifically fine," Colin exclaims as he exhales some smoke, "But I guess it should be good to tell you that the wedding was called off."

The line goes silent, and Stephanie screeches, excitedly demanding answers. Colin finishes off his cigarette.

"This tale starts with a Gilmore, and a baby…"

* * *

He rides her wheelchair, and also helps her to get dressed and sanitized to get into the NICU. Rory's still a bit weak, but excitement runs through her veins, and him by her side makes her a little bit stronger. The doctor warns them about her daughter's condition, her premature-ness, her undeveloped organism, or lack of mobility she'll present, and both nod, unsure as to what they'll see. They enter a room with around 20 incubators, each one with a specific set of staff buzzing around them. There are more blue blankets that pink ones, but when she takes a look at the end of the room, she knows she's there. Logan follows Rory to the back corner of the room, and there, they see her.

She's small, small enough to fit in their hands, and her skin is pink and looks softer than the softest of pillows. She's asleep, but she twitches from time to time. Her heartbeat is steady, her pressure is steady, her breathing is a little erratic, but nothing an oxygen fix can't correct. She's perfect, and that's such an overrated, clichéd thought of a first-time parent. Rory remembers her mother saying there's nothing compared to what a mother feels when she first holds her child, like an unbreakable bond is formed out of the blue. She knows she can't hold her now, and probably won't hold her for several weeks, but just being with her, in the same room, even touching her through a sterilized glove, makes her heart flutter, her skin flush, and her eyes tear up.

They say you can't love two people the same, but _she adores Logan, and she adores her daughter_ , and she feels _complete_. Her family's complete.

Her daughter moves towards her touch, towards her warmth; she recognizes her mother. Logan's cheek touches Rory's, and she feels his cold tears of joy.

"We did this, Ace," he says with a cracked voice, and Rory laughs, ever-manly, charming Logan Huntzberger cries and he's not ashamed of it, not by a bit.

"I think she'll be a blonde," Rory muses, "And with those beautiful brown eyes, she'll be your little clone."

"I'd rather her be a brunette, just like her mother," he jokes, and they go silent, admiring their little miracle.

"She needs a name," Rory states, frowning, "She's been nameless for days, we have to put an end to it."

"Well, that's a given," Logan tells her, "She's a Lorelai, even if she has blonde hair."

"I don't know if I want her to be one, I want her to be her own person, not one living under the shadow of another one," Rory loves her name, and she loves what it represents, but she doesn't want her daughter to follow a path, she wants for her to create her own.

"Then we use Lorelai, but we also add a middle name to call her by," he suggests, "What about Charlotte?"

Charlotte, like the web, the city, and the princess. Classic, but not so that only grandparents use it. Charlotte, her daughter.

"Lorelai Charlotte Gilmore," he repeats, and after she sends him a loving smile, she corrects him.

"Lorelai Charlotte _Huntzberger._ "

His chest tightens. His ears soar. Lorelai Charlotte Huntzberger.

"It's perfect," he manages to say, and Rory grins, resuming her mother-daughter bonding. Her name's perfect, and she can't wait to announce it to the world, but something's yet missing, her nickname. Charlotte's unique denominator. Charlie sounds like a dude, Lottie sounds too candy land, and anything Lorelai related is out of the picture, so when Logan suggests they call her Char, she agrees whole-heartedly.

"Welcome to the world, Char."

They stay in the NICU until they're kicked out, but they're there the next day, and the day after that, and so, so on.

* * *

When Emily and Lorelai find out about their granddaughter's name, they do the must unexpected thing ever. They hug each other, and cry some more, and Lorelai has to be stopped by Luke from bursting through the NICU unauthorized, but her glee isn't subdued by some ugly white doors. Lorelai the Fourth is now the reigning Lorelai, and she can't be happier about it.

* * *

"Anybody home?" a soft, accented voice brings Rory out of her reading trance, and she looks up, wary.

Odette Lafontaine is the epitome of French beauty. Her hair's made out of gold, and her skin glistens with the light, and her eyes are the colors of the emeraudes. She's the perfect woman.

"You must be Odette," Rory tells her awkwardly extending her hand, but the French heiress is not the one for shyness, so she crosses the room and greets her, two-kisses-in-the-cheeks style.

"The elusive Rory Gilmore," she announces, smiling, "We meet, at last."

"I can see why the Huntzbergers deemed you worthy," Rory's tone is cautious, confused about the woman's presence in her room. She laughs and shows her perfect white teeth.

"Oh ma chérie, I could have being the ugliest lady in the whole country, and Mitchum would've still chosen me for the sake of my bank accounts, but anyways, I'm not here to discuss what's already been done, I just wanted to clear a few things up with you before I leave for Paris."

"What kind of things?"

"Logan and I have been put through a lot of shit together by our families, and we grew close in the in between and aftermath, but it is a strict friendly type of close. I love him dearly, and he cares for me too, but I have no intentions to make your life a living hell for interrupting the wedding. I should be building you an altar instead, your Eiffel Tower-sized gut saved us from making the worst mistake of our lives, and without breaking a pre-nup clause!" the blonde puts a hand over Rory's shoulder, "I'm happy Logan has you in his life, and I hope our friendship doesn't cause any trouble between the two of you."

Odette turns and takes a few steps before Rory stops her.

"I'll be happy to get a cup of coffee with you sometime."

The Frenchwoman laughs.

"I'm Odette Lafontaine, and I'll be here all week."

* * *

Logan goes to the NICU alone one rainy afternoon. He makes skin-to-skin contact with his daughter, and she reacts to his touch. He's over Cloud Nine.

"Hey mini Ace," he runs his finger up and down her tiny stomach, "It's Logan, your daddy. It feels strange, saying that, you know? I guess I never gave the thought of children a lot of my time, after all my children with Odette were going to be another mean to an end, but since you were born, it feels like you're the one gluing me to the Earth, not gravity; maybe your mother keeps a hold on me too, but your still my principal source. I've screwed up a lot of things throughout my life, your mom and I's relationship for instance, jobs, people, opportunities… but that stops now, I mean, how could I expect for you to be good if you aren't around it? Maybe most of my promises have been empty up until today, but from now on, I promise I'll do anything for you, forever, and always."


	4. IV

**the chapter almost wrote itself; i don't want this story to end. please review and tell me what you think.**

* * *

She's cleared from the hospital after a couple of days, and she's moved officially into Logan's the day after her release. Lorelai takes her window-shopping for old time's sake, but they end up actually buying clothes and other necessities for Rory's unknown-length stay in the UK. They take Harrods by storm, all thanks to Logan's Amex Black Card. It's funny though, how Odette never attempted to leave a little bit of personality in the apartment, almost acting like a intermittent guest, while tiny little details Rory left over time are still there, and make the apartment part hers. Now the Gilmore girls have unpacked and kept Rory's goods, and they admire London from the balcony. It's Emily's turn at the NICU, Luke's on a plane back to Connecticut, and both women need a deserved break from the hectic hospital life.

"Didi's place is really nice, you know, she surely knows people in the real estate business," Lorelai jokes, as she processes the gorgeous English view.

"I love it here," Rory says, "I used to hate London because it separated Logan from me, but after spending most of the last year in this apartment, it feels like a safe place."

"Oh, sweet fruit of my loins," mother and daughter hug tightly, "You gave me one big hell of a scare, when I saw you on the floor…"

"I'm okay now, mom," Rory interrupts her, "Both me and Char are, so let's just forget about the complications I went through, and maybe we can conjure a cool story about her birth so Logan and I can keep up with our birthday tradition, I'd love for her dad to be part of it…" her eyes widen in realization, "Oh my god."

"What's troubling your already roily mind?

"Did you call Dad to tell him he's a grandfather?" Lorelai's eyes mimic her daughter's.

"Holy shit, Christopher is going to flip."

She uses the house phone, and hopes he picks up quickly. Thankfully he does.

Christopher Hayden is surprised to see a non-descript number calling.

"Hello?"

"Hey Dad, it's Rory." He relaxes.

"Hey kiddo, how are you? How's your book going?"

"The book is going great dad, and I am… good, I'm incredibly good right now, but thing is, I wasn't so good a week ago."

"Is everything okay, Ror? What's going on?"

Here goes nothing. "Remember when I asked you about how you felt when Mom raised me all by herself? Well, it did help me for my book, but it wasn't the only reason I asked for. Dad, at the time of asking, I had just find out I was pregnant."

Christopher utters no words. He'd expect anything from his daughter, but definitely not this.

"You're pregnant, Lorelai?" he feels sixteen again, and not in the good way.

"I said I was pregnant dad, not anymore, I gave birth a week ago; I have a daughter."

Another Gilmore Girl, good.

"I can't say I'm completely thrilled about finding out just now, but I'm glad you remembered to tell me, are you in Hartford? I know for a fact that Stars Hollow has no decent maternity ward."

The silence comes from Rory now.

"There's more to the story daddy," she thinks of censuring her odyssey, but what the hell, "And I'll probably start ranting gibberish if I don't spit it out nice and quick, so here it is. I came to London to do something, but amidst that something I got into early labor so I had a C-section and now you're grandfather to a premature little girl. Her name's Lorelai Charlotte Huntzberger."

As expected, Christopher only catches one thing.

" _Huntzberger_? As in Logan Huntzberger?"

"Look Dad, it's complicated to explain in just a transatlantic phone call, but yes, he's Char's dad, and he wasn't in the picture before but he is now, and I want you to know that mom's with me and Char is healthy and I'm happy, can you live with that?"

Christopher agrees with her, rather reluctantly, and they schedule a lunch date to catch up.

* * *

He meets up with Lorelai and soon as she's set a foot back in the States.

"Is Rory really okay, Lore?" He's been the absentee father for most of her life, but she's still her firstborn, the little blue-eyed doll he fell in love with when he was only seventeen.

"Honestly, Chris? She couldn't have been better," she shows his pictures of their granddaughter, and they both conclude on the same thing: they're too young to be called grandpa and grandma.

* * *

Lorelai Charlotte gets stronger with each passing day, and finally, her parents are able to hold her for the first time. The mother comes first, a gentleman's agreement, and she feels her heart grow ten sizes bigger as she feels her weight against her chest.

"She's as light as a feather!" her mom exclaims, excited as she coos her.

Her dad holds her second, but it's still an indescribable feeling. He refuses to put her down, so Rory has to bribe him with no "funky business" for weeks if he doesn't put her back in the incubator. He reluctantly does. Lorelai is already back in Stars Hollow, so Rory forces the nurse to take more than a hundred pictures for documentation. They forward the pictures to every close relative and friend, and a couple of weeks later, a copy of the "Stars Hollow Gazette" is mailed to their doorstep. The picture had made the cover story.

* * *

It's near nighttime when she storms out of the quaint café at the _6iéme Arrondissement_ , exasperated with her overbearing parents. Laurent and Juliette Lafontaine are still not over about the almost-wedding event; they've pushed her for more than three months to take action against that _pute américaine_ , as they lovingly address Rory Gilmore, and she's explained more than a million times that it was their decision to marry her off to the Huntzbergers, it wasn't hers. She came back to Paris the day before Rory moved into her previous home, and she should've felt at least annoyance, but her relief and the prospect of a free, non-married life outweighed the possible _negativité_. Odette blows a strand of her brand new, post break up with Etienne, short, red hair off her face, and proceeds to walk back to her _Saint-Germain-des-Prés_ flat, when a stranger bumps into her and spills his coffee onto her luxurious coat.

" _Merde! peut-tu voir ou est-ce que tu marches la prochaine fois? C'est un manteaux_ Burberry," she exclaims angrily.

"I don't know what you just said, love, but I did get the Burberry coat detail, so first, I apologize, I do know it is quite expensive, secondly I'd like to cover the dry-cleaning, and third… Have I met you before?" Finn's confused at first, because last time he thinks he saw her, she was a blonde bride; right now, she's a very aggravated redhead.

She recognizes him as the extremely eccentric, Australian friend of Logan's. They could barely qualify as acquaintances, but seeing him again reminds her of the few good times she had in London.

"You're Finn Taylor-Jones, Australia's most coveted bachelor," she teases him, and he relaxes into his seductive persona.

"And you're Odette, Logan's ex-fiancée."

She groans and swears in French.

"I happen to be an entirely interested, Soborne-educated person without Logan Huntzberger, _merci beaucoup_ , so it'd extremely pleasant if we do not discuss any wedding related subject and semantics."

"Let's avoid the wedding then. Weren't you a blonde when I first met you?"

"I was, but I couldn't identify with my heiress-blonde style anymore, so I decided to spike things up a little; I've heard redheads have their way more often."

"As if you didn't get your way enough already," the night they all went out for drinks after the engagement, it took just a casual name drop from her to get them two bottles of the pub's best liquor for free.

"That is irrelevant for our discussion, Red is also la mode here in Paris! Everybody uses it in some kind of way. For instance, I'm wearing a beautiful red dress I happened to find in my closet, even though I can't remember buying it, with red heels, and a red lipstick, what's the damage on adding the red hair, too?"

They keep walking until they hit a red light. Figures.

"I think red suits you," he tells her sincerely, "and even more when it spreads throughout those perfectly chiseled cheekbones of yours."

"I now understand Logan when he warned me not to talk with you for more than ten minutes when you're sober." He's a charmer, and a sweet-talker, and the kind of guy she likes to occasionally date.

"Oh my dear American friend, always talking behind my back, I didn't realize his jealousy reached that limit."

Her laugh is soft and endearing, like the French she speaks as a mother tongue. They're walking a bit more, and suddenly they're near her flat, but she doesn't want to leave his side, not yet.

"Thanks for walking me home, Finn," she brushes a hand through her red bob, and muses, "I know it'd seem kind of inappropriate, due to our common link, but I wondered if you'd like to go out sometime."

"It does seem rather strange to take you out, but seeing you in that dress makes it really worth it."

They take a cab, they go to the hottest club in Paris, they hook up; overall, they have a great night together, but it doesn't end in just one night. He calls and she calls and they meet and they talk and laugh and argue and kiss. They never imagined it, but they just fit.

The next day, she remembers where she got the lucky dress.

* * *

Mitchum thanks his driver and exits the town car, and after a few calls here and there, he enters the hospital, where a medical executive is waiting to take him to the NICU. He checked before dropping by that neither his son or his son's girlfriend, or anyone known to him for the matter, were in the building, he just couldn't deal with an argument of sorts for the time being. Things between Logan and him weren't as tense as he'd thought they'd be, partly because he's barely seen him in the month and a half following the wedding. His son still goes to work on a daily basis, so at least that means he's based in London for the time being, Rory Gilmore present or not. The executive helps him get properly outfitted to enter the incubator room.

"This is a rarely done action, Mr. Huntzberger, if I dare to say," the bubbly woman chit-chats, "The entire hospital is well aware of how generous and kind your donations have been, but it's quite unusual to let a relative visit a premature baby without the parental figures being present…"

Mitchum throws her a charming smile to blow her off.

"Don't fret about it miss, my son is well aware I'm visiting my granddaughter," lying is a constant feature in his daily life.

The executive quiets down after this, and she lets him into the incubator ward, which, curiously, is dead empty. Most of the neonates are sleeping or resting, but the one he's interested in is very wide-awake. She doesn't speak, or babbles for the matter, but her eyes wander around her environment, as if trying to guess where the hell she was. Her eyes are brown and tiny, and her head is showing the slightest amount of blonde fuzz. He was never around at the time, but he swears she looks exactly like Logan when he was born. Her name surprises him. He assumed she'd be named Lorelai, and wasn't wrong, but at reading the Huntzberger at the end of the tag, he can't help but feel a little satisfied. Charlotte Huntzberger. It feels right to say.

He fights the urge to caress his granddaughter, but eventually gives in. she thinks she'll wither away, but she does exactly the opposite, she cuddles to his finger. Then a miracle sent by God happens. Mitchum Huntzberger, the newspaper guy, grins. He's not a first time grandfather, Honor already has two kids, whom Shira dotes on regularly, but he's never felt the urge to be present, or attentive to them. With Charlotte, he feels different. Experts might say that what he's experimenting is that weird, foreign emotion his brain has never gotten the grasp of. _Love._

"Hey there, baby girl," he salutes, and he swears she smiles at him.

He leaves the hospital in a rush, and on the way to HPG HQ's, he makes a series of calls to arrange several matters. He pays half of Charlotte's bill at the hospital, and politely persuades the hospital board to keep his contribution under wraps. He then calls his lawyers to set up a special secret trust fund under her name, and he finishes his roll call with the same hospital executive to arrange another visit to the NICU before leaving London.

* * *

Logan and Rory leave the hospital for the last time three, months, two weeks, and five days after Char's birth, with her wrapped up in a fluffy pink blanket against Rory's chest. She passed the nine-month mark with flying colors, and now she's physically like a month-old normal baby. Everything's ready for her arrival, and that night, when she's asleep on her crib and they're lying together after making love, both stay awake to admire her a little bit longer.

Their baby is finally home.

* * *

 _Rory, la plus jolie,_

 _I found this on my closet the last time I cleaned it, I must have taken it by mistake in one of my stays at Logan's. I wore it once, and I dare to say, it is one of a lucky outfit. A friend sends his regards._

 _Bisou bisou, Odette._

* * *

Logan comes home one day to find a cold version of his girlfriend engaged in a staring contest against a very unexpected Mitchum Huntzberger. Char is inside her crib, oblivious to the tension in the room, and when he sits besides Rory, he notices the thick legal pad Mitchum brought with him.

"To what do we owe the pleasure, dad? I don't think you'd be ever interested on seeing me again?" he remarks sarcastically. His father cracks his knuckles.

"Don't be so dramatic Logan, I just wanted to see how you and Rory were faring post-parenthood," Mitchum wants to swipe Charlotte out of her crib and into his arms, but he must keep the appearances for the show, "I also came to negotiate with you." Rory opens her mouth after that sentence.

"Negotiate what exactly, Mitchum? Whisking him off to another HPG headquarters in the other side of the world?"

"We already are in the other side of the world, Rory."

"Don't play smart, contrary to everyone who works for you, you don't intimidate me whatsoever."

Logan smiles on the inside. His Ace is a spitfire.

"It is about a transfer yes, but one a little bit closer to home. I want you to direct the New York office, effective immediately."

The young couple gets taken aback. Get them back to the States?

"You're head of the New York office, dad," Logan states, cautious about Mitchum's agenda.

"I know, I know, but I'm thinking about doing more work from home from now own, I'm not as young as I used to be."

Rory does pro/cons silently in her head.

Pro: New York is less than two hours away from Connecticut.

Pro: They wouldn't have to be separated from Logan.

Super Con: What's in for Mitchum?

"You never do something without wanting a reward, dad, so what's the price?"

He glances at Charlotte's crib for less than a millisecond.

"I want to be allowed to build a relationship with my granddaughter."

Rory chokes on her own saliva for the second time that day.

"You said what?"

"Look, I know I'm the living definition of a classic jackass, and I've been nothing but rude to you Rory, and I could've been a better father to you and Honor, Logan, but what's done is done and I can't change a thing, even if I wanted to. But little Charlotte…"

"It's Lorelai Charlotte," Rory corrects.

"Okay, Lorelai Charlotte doesn't have to suffer whatever I put you two through. I'm just asking for this one thing, and in return, you can draw your own contract Logan, and I'll even say yes to every quirk and specification you write down."

Rory's thrown back to when Lorelai the Second went back to the parents she ran away from in her youth for her daughter's sake. He scrutinizes Mitchum, but his factions exude nothing but honesty. It's a risky move, but if that meant they'd all be together, then so be it.

Mitchum leaves the apartment, and Logan spends days drawing up the perfect contract, with no loopholes or clauses for anyone to use against him. Rory proofreads it one, two, three…ten times before he sends it to his lawyers. He has one last meeting with his father, and he brings Char with him as a token of good faith. Grandpa Mitchum is fascinated. Both father and son part on good terms.

* * *

Fourteen months after the birth of their daughter, Rory Gilmore, and Logan Huntzberger land in New York to commence their new life together. It was a long, hard, winding road, but it's finally over. They're home.


	5. V

**if gilmore girls doesn't have the proper ending it deserves, this will be my satisfaction. thanks for all the reviews, and the reads, and the love.**

* * *

They rent the penthouse of one of the Upper East Side's most coveted buildings, and although she almost had a heart attack when she saw how many zeros its' price stated, she let it slide when Logan first carried her bridal-style through their new entrance. Their home is nice and spacious and well located and they're together so Rory's happy, really happy. Between loving Logan, taking care of Char, and finishing her book, life has been hectic.

She can't lie; it hasn't been sewing and singing per se.

Rewinding to their relationship to Vegas to resuming an official partnership, both her and Logan have grown and changed from the shy young girl and the smirking Casanova who knew every single detail about each other. Vegas allowed them to hide their true feelings and opinions from the cold reality, but not anymore. They bicker about trivialities, laugh about each other's antics, like Rory's new obsession with green veggies, or Logan's collection of home workout DVD's, and like every couple in the planet, they fight; it's not a daily occurrence, but they sometimes cannot brush off annoyance, or stress, or resentment for whatever the other did, and they scream and shout and sometimes he storms out, and sometimes she takes off with Char to her mother's house for hours to clear her head, but it doesn't matter how big and intense their conflicts are, magnetism pulls them back together.

She's lived in New York on-and-off for the past five years, but her previous experience in the Big Apple is nowhere near her current lifestyle. She's spent so much time trying to lead a rootless existence, crashing here and there and constantly traveling, she's forgotten what's it's like to end the day by coming home.

She simply adores it.

* * *

The three heirs drink neat scotches at the Plaza bar, a two-year hiatus passed after their last Life and Death Brigade conclave, and though their drinks stay the same, Colin, Finn, and Logan have become a total antithesis of what they'd used to be, or at least, most of them had. Colin talks excitedly about his growing son, who's already getting grey hairs on Stephanie, and Finn, just in from Europe, spills about his recent escapade to the Greek Islands with his darling Odette, and an incident involving a statue of Zeus with a golden speedo.

"…And that's how I got banned from yet another touristic place with a thousand dollar forfeit and a terrific anecdote for you mates, cheers," Finn exclaims joyfully, and the other two return his toast with the same feeling.

"That's four banishments in less than five years, I think you're breaking your own record," Colin laughs, "How do you plan to take Odette on a proper paradisiac holiday if you've been banned from the greatest places already?"

"I have a private beach back in the Gold Coast," Finn states matter-of-factly, "and her family owns part of Polynesia, so I think we've got that covered."

"You know nothing tops the British Virgin Islands! And what about Ibiza? Spain has got so many…"

"I bought Rory an engagement ring."

The hottest beaches on Earth are forgotten as Logan swings down the last of his glass.

"It's about damn time Huntz," Finn breaks the silence, and proceeds to order a bottle of the finest champagne, "And here we thought you were into permanent cohabitation."

"What happened to the first ring? I remember when you dragged us through five different jewelers in five different cities to get it," Colin muses, swiftly sending Steph a text with the words _GREAT NEWS_ written in it.

"It is either at the bottom of the Pacific or inside a curious seagull," Logan says, "I got rid of it as soon as I got the chance in Palo Alto," he takes the black velvet box and plays nervously with it, "Things have been more than great this past year, between us, and Char, our families, HPG, her book, and I don't know, it finally feels right, but I guess I'm not entirely sure because it also felt right ten years ago, and well, you guys know how that turned out."

Colin and Finn exchange knowing looks. The waiter comes with the champagne, and they speak after taking a sip.

"Logan, we all know your current situation is a hundred percent different now than before," Colin starts, setting his glass down, "You're both in the middle of your 30's, not fresh out of college and fresh out of job," Logan winces at the mention of his business mistake, "and Rory's had time to figure out what she wants and what she doesn't, and let me tell you, you're definitely fronting her "Want List", only a spot lower than Huntzie," between his two friends, his kid will never register her name is actually Lorelai or Charlotte.

Logan groans.

"This self-doubting is so way out of my comfort zone," he complains, downing his champagne, "I know I want to marry her, and I know I want to do a great proposal, something that'll erase proposing at her grandparents' graduation party off my screw-ups list, but whenever I sit down and try to think something amazing, yet elegant, yet simple, yet unforgettable, my head goes blank."

"Blank as in "I'm totally wasted and I don't remember my hotel" blank or "Holy shit I where did I left my Amex?" type of blank," Finn asks, concerned.

"Worse than the Amex scenario."

"Damn it."

Colin's phone beeps. Steph guessed the situation right away.

"Thinking about losing credit cards depresses me, so let's brainstorm instead, kind of like when we planned the LBD stunts; proposing can't be more complex than jumping a seven-store structure or filling the Dean's office with cotton candy," the McCrae spawn suggests. They spent the rest of the evening mapping out the perfect proposal, and Logan leaves before them with a smile in his face and joy in his heart, needing to pick Char up from his parents place in the city. The second the blond gets in his town car, Colin dials Steph to gush in all the details, and Finn calls Rory.

"Gilmore, I think we have a setback, and possible catalyst to what we've been planning."

* * *

Lorelai puts the first print copy of Rory's book down after reading the last words. She has tears spilt on her cheeks, and her younger doppelgänger awaits, expectantly, at her mother's word.

"I… have been rendered speechless for the second, maybe third time in my life," Lorelai articulates carefully, brushing a hand on the hardcover, "It's beautiful, hun. It's real, and funny, and candor, and it's just… us."

Lorelai the Third grins at Lorelai the Second, and blows a strand of her hair off her face.

"I was so extremely nervous about your response towards it," Rory exhales, relaxed, "My editor predicts it'll be tough for sales when it first comes out, but that it'll be a sleeper hit eventually. God, I can't wait to show it to Logan."

Her mother smirks at the mention of his son-in-law in all but paper.

"Sweets, when are you ever going to go for it?"

Rory blushes and bites her lip.

"That's actually why I drove up today mom, there's been a sudden change of plans and it's going to happen before planned, and we have a bunch of stuff to rearrange and organize…"

Lorelai notices a silver Jaguar pulling in front of the Dragonfly's porch, and alarmed, drags Rory off sight. Her daughter complains about her rudeness, but at noticing Logan's car, she pales. Lorelai calms her down and leaves her hidden to go face Logan herself. The young entrepreneur looks sleek with his blue navy suit, but has an uneasy expression. She has a hunch about Logan's reasons to visit the Hollow. They greet each other and seat on the reception. Logan inhales sharply. He tries to think of the right words to say to the mother of the love of his life, but he's blank, yet again. Thankfully, Lorelai puts him out of his misery.

"You had the same expression on ten years ago, when you came to my house you know, but back then you did managed to ask me, you didn't just sit there sulking and gulping in fear."

His shoulders relax and he chuckles. He loosens his tie.

"Well, back then you didn't dislike me the way you do know," he retorts.

"I stopped disliking you the moment I held my precious granddaughter for the first time, Huntzberger," she glances at the back of the dining room, and sees her daughter sneaking a peek at them, "besides, you already got her pregnant, and you didn't ask for my permission then, so I think it's kind of irrelevant at the moment."

"Do you think she made the wrong choice by letting my back into her life?"

Lorelai speaks to him, but she also speaks to Rory.

"I definitely do not agree about the first act of the Gilmore Huntzberger reunion, but hun, life does things a certain way because they're meant to be. Rory might have found another great guy, I don't doubt that, but I don't think she would've had the same amount of happiness in her life, I guess your reunion was something…"

"Cathartic?" Being with Rory again eased his mind, body and heart altogether.

"I was going to compare it to something out of an epic romance novel, but cathartic works within this context."

He does asks her if he has her blessing to marry her daughter to get a precise confirmation, and she throws a pillow at him out of exasperation. She bids Logan goodbye with a hug.

"Oh before I forget," she scribbles a phone number in a piece of paper and gives it to him, "While you might think my blessing is the only one that matters, I think calling Christopher may be a great idea, he felt a little bit left out the last time."

He nods quietly, and exists the inn. His car pulls out of the driveway, and Rory comes out of her hiding spot.

"So what do you think?" Rory asks.

"He's got absolutely no idea," her mother responds happily, and they resume their very important conversation. She bids her daughter goodbye, and when she goes home to the Crap Shack and watches her husband cook up dinner, she feels peaceful. They were really _the ones._

* * *

She arrives home after a promising lunch meeting with the Times to find the house empty, but she quickly recalls it's Char's weekend at Stars Hollow. Her daughter spent a weekend at the Huntzbergers' the previous week, so when Lorelai found out, she demanded retribution, which was gladly provided by both Rory and Logan; they needed the weekend for themselves. She finds a fancy big box in the kitchen counter with a card attached to the ribbons, the faint scent of Logan's cologne attached to it too.

 _Ace, I expect you to look even more beautiful than you already are by 8. I'd suggest wearing the Jimmy Choos, they match. Get your hopes up for a great night, I love you._

 _Logan_

* * *

"Mom?"

"Oh my god it's time?"

"Yep."

" 'Tis the season to be jolly! Fah la la la la!"

"Mother!"

"I'm sorry, I'll be glued to the phone. Good luck."

* * *

He rests patiently against the limo door when she exits the building. Her brown hair is down and curly, her blue eyes are framed by thick, long eyelashes, and her cheeks are naturally flushed. She wears the dress he bought for her with the shoes he suggested, and her smile takes his breath away. He's the luckiest bastard on Earth.

"I've still got a great eye for dress sizes, Ace," he greets her with a short, but sinful kiss. Their arms circle each other, but Rory breaks the embrace, cupping his cheeks.

"You don't look so bad yourself," he wears the Armani suit she picked for him in one of their shopping sprees, "Blue looks great on you."

He opens the door for her. She takes his hand.

"After you," they sit in the back of the limo, and Logan opens a bottle of white wine.

Rory puts on her most innocent-like face.

"Are we celebrating something?" she takes the glass he offers, and clicks it against his.

"Can't I just treat my gorgeous partner with a great night out?" he teases, and she smiles. She kisses his cheek.

"Every night with you is a great night out," she tells him sincerely, and he fights the urge to ravish her right in the limo, "Tell me tonight's schedule."

He's ready to talk, but the partition lowers and the driver speaks to them.

"I'm afraid I've been notified about a malfunction in the engine, sir, so we must make a detour stop before I take you to your destination."

Crap, he thinks, and he's so busy thinking about the new glitch in his perfect plan he doesn't notice Rory secretly texting her helpers. _Almost there_.

"Hey don't fret sweetie," she tells him reassuringly, "I'm sure the place you've got the reservation at will make an exception if we arrive a little bit later than expected. It'll be a perfect night."

Suddenly, the velvet box inside his suit jacket feels very heavy.

"You're right, Ace."

"I always am, hot stuff."

They stop at a red light, and he looks out of the window when a sign catches his eye. You jump, I jump Jack. Huh, what a coincidence. The driver resumes his route, only to reach the detour destination several minutes later. Rory steps out of the car before Logan can stop her.

"Ace, this is a detour, not our destination."

"Are you a hundred percent sure about that?"

Curious, he exits the limo, only to find himself standing outside his favorite part of Central Park, with Rory smiling at him in amusement. He's confused, and she's being cryptic, but when she offers her hand in guidance, he takes it without hesitation.

"I know you know I love a good walk through Central Park as good as any other New York resident, but we've got plans, Rory, important plans."

"And I know you think I don't have any idea about what you want to do tonight, but as a matter of fact, I do, and I adore you with all my heart and soul for that, but I also have a surprise myself."

He's quiet for a while. She knows about the proposal, but how? She thinks of Finn, the gossip king, Lorelai and her no secrets between them policy, or maybe even Colin or Steph. She mentioned a surprise; let's see what she's got.

They arrive to a clear space within the woods, and he takes a step back. There are posters and pictures, pictures of them, hanging on the trees surrounding them, with lights spread in the spaces between the pictures. Music starts playing from somewhere, and he recognizes it instantly. It's called Perfect, by some English indie artist Rory idolizes. She slightly sways to the rhythm, and approaches the first tree to her right. The picture hanging there is one from the first LBD gathering she attended, the one that changed things between them. Beside it, there's the phrase, _Experience of a lifetime._

"I read once that there are three important key moments in a relationship," she starts, her voice soft and certain, "Number One: when you fall in love, obviously. When we met I didn't exactly like you, as you can remember, but this moment, when you held my hand and pushed me to face my fears to actually live, that's when I first felt my heart do a gymnastics routine across my ribcage just by looking at you."

She moves in front of a tree with a picture of them in Logan's graduation. Beside it, another poster with the words, _People can live for a hundred years without really living for a minute._

"Number Two: when you have a terrible fight, and you think this is it and there's no way out from a closed alley, but then you get over it and realize you need each other like humans need oxygen to breath. I was so hurt and angry after Honor's wedding, and I felt like not putting up with you anymore, but then you then Costa Rica happened and when the possibility of you dying got thrown into the air, I just couldn't fathom to exist without you."

He's crying, and he wants to reach her and kiss her and be with her forever, but there's magic in this moment, a sensation he doesn't want to break. How does a moment last forever?

She reaches the last significant picture, one of Char and him sleeping next to each other, and she's also crying oceans, but she keeps on talking. The last phrase written is _I don't know a lot, but I know that I love you._

"The third, and last key moment of a relationship is when, at waking up, the first thing in your mind is knowing it's him you want to spend the rest of your life with, that it doesn't matter if you're rich, poor, famous, unknown, an international correspondent or a media mogul, nothing's worth the shot without having that someone to share your joy with. When I woke up after that September night, that was exactly the way I felt, and my love for you was, is, so strong and intense, sending you back to your life tear me up like nothing had done before."

Rory doesn't bother to wipe the tears off her face; she just reaches out to Logan, and pulls him closer to her.

"I fought my feelings for you for more than a decade. I told myself to get over you, and look for something better, but truth is, you're it for me, Huntzberger, you're my something better, you're my one and only, you're the father of my children," she puts his hand over her flat stomach, and he smiles in realization, "You're the love of my life, and I want to spend the rest of my days with you."

"I never thought you'd get this cheesy, Gilmore."

"Well, it takes the right person to change it all."

She pats his jacket and finds the black velvet box. He takes it out, and opens it for her to see, and this ring seems right. Perfect, and simple, and right.

"I was supposed to woo you out of your feet tonight," he finally speaks, "to make you think "Damn, I'm so lucky to have him", not the other way around."

Rory giggles like a college girl, and the ring slips through her finger.

"I told you when I crashed the wedding that it was my turn to jump," she circles her arms around his neck, and dances with him to the music, "so, Logan Huntzberger, would you pretty please put me out my misery and marry me already?"

He spins her in the air; when their lips meet, he sees fireworks.

"I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

They get married on beautiful spring Sunday morning at Stars Hollow. His mother is outraged at the short notice, and the lack of proper socially accepted pre-nuptial rituals, but they decided they want to do things their own way, without further ado, and certainly without someone stringing them like puppets. Lorelai's the matron of honor, and Colin is the best man - only because he lost when they fought about who was going to be Char's godfather – and a recently turned three-year-old Char is the ring bearer and flower girl. Taylor agreed for them to be married in the town center, the ceremony held in the gazebo, and the reception at the newly inaugurated Dragonfly Inn's party room. He wears a three-, and she wears simple, yet outstanding, bridal gown that manages to fit like a glove while still hiding her pregnancy. She walks dawn the aisle, and they recite the same wedding vows every married couple in the word have said, and laugh along the rest of the invites when Kirk has an emotional break-down, and hug their daughter when she gives them their wedding bands, and when they become Mr. and Mrs. Huntzberger, their kiss is just epic.

* * *

Everyone they love is present. There's Lorelai, Luke, Emily, Christopher and a teenage Gigi, Lane, Zach and their boys, Paris and her kids, April, Honor and her family, Colin, Steph and their son Adam, Finn, a very pregnant Odette (because children out of wedlock are so hot right now!), Sookie, Jackson, Michel and his boyfriend, Miss Patty, Babette, the town in its' entirety, Dean and Jess with their significant others, Robert, Logan's closest business associates and friends, and of course, Mitchum and a very reluctant Shira. The reception is beautiful, and they waltz to the Moon River, because nostalgia, right?

Lorelai does the toast.

"I'm not a faithful woman, but life has taught me over and over that there's an actual fate for everyone, and even though I didn't believe it before, I can now confirm that Lorelai Leigh Gilmore, and Logan Elias Huntzberger were fated to be with each other. Congratulations, to the happy couple, it took you thirteen years, more or less, but who's counting anyhow?"

* * *

"Grandpa Mitchum!"

Char lets go of her mother's hand to run to her favorite person in the world – Logan knows it, Rory knows it, and Lorelai knows it, even though she's the only one who doesn't accept it. Mitchum lowers himself to the floor and envelopes his granddaughter in a bear hug, who giggles and tries to get out of it.

"I can't breathe grandpa! Let me go!"

He holds her up in the air, and they go into the dance floor. Logan and Honor ogle their father in disbelief; it's still a foreign concept for them that Mitchum Huntzberger can be a loving person, but only for the little blonde human in his arms.

"How's my best girl doing? Are you enjoying the party?"

"It's amazing grandpa, mommy looks like a princess and daddy looks like a knight in shining arm!"

"And how would you know what a knight in shining armor looks like?" her brown eyes shine like the day they stole his cold heart.

"That's easy, knights wear clothes like daddy's," she points at her father's three-pieced suit, and squeals, "And they're pretty like daddy, too."

He twirls her in his arms.

"I'm wearing clothes like your daddy's, but I'm not as pretty, can I still be your knight?"

She gives him a peck on the cheek, and rests her head against his chest.

"You're my bestest knight grandpa, don't forget that."

"And you're my bestest princess, too, sweetheart."

* * *

Her _husband_ dances with her the entire night without ever letting go.

* * *

Emily sits with Babette and Miss Patty, talking about how gorgeous the wedding is, but the Gilmore matriarch isn't focused in the conversation. Her eyes are set on the newly wed couple, and as her eyes move with their dance, she's thrown back to her own wedding, more than fifty years ago, and suddenly it all clicks. How they met, how they separated, and how they came back together. Emily has always thought of Logan as the Christopher for Rory's Lorelai, but she's been wrong all this time. Logan's no Christopher, but instead, he's Richard. The Richard to Rory's own Emily. He's the right choice. She smiles and tears up. Somewhere in the universe, she knows her husband is smiling, too.

* * *

Luke saves Lorelai from an awful rundown with Shira Huntzberger.

"I was on the verge of punching her perfect white teeth to the ground," she grumbles as he guides her off the tables and into the dance floor, "Where are we going?"

Luke kisses her softly, and as the next song comes around, Lorelai falls into his arms to the perfect rhythm, not another word needed.

 _And the moon's never seen me before, but I'm reflecting light._

* * *

The sun's up, but the Stars Hollow has just fallen asleep. Only two people are left in the streets, still dancing to the silent music in their minds. Their wedding bands glisten with the sunlight, and they look tired, but they're also too deep in the bliss to go lay down. They climb up the stairs of the gazebo, and rest upon each other's bodies. His hands are on her stomach, and she intertwines her fingers with his. This exact moment parallels the moment her life turned around, and she told her mother she was pregnant. She's now married, with a little girl, and another on its way, but she's not frightened, or sad, because she's not alone anymore, because from now on, he'll be the one to carry her when she's not strong enough, and she'll be the one to carry him when he's not strong enough, either. They'll carry each other. They always have. Their tale isn't a fairy tale, but it is the tale of a lifetime.

"Rory."

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too."


	6. Epilogue

**it took me a month of pondering and thinking and brainstorming, but the end is finally here. thanks to everyone who took the time, to read, favorite, follow, and review, and to everyone who's as passionate about the love story of rory and logan. i hope you enjoy, at last.**

* * *

 _Summer 2037_

She's lying by the poolside, a gin tonic in hand and the newest manuscript she's editing in the other. Being midday, the beach is crowded with trophy wives, their kids and the multiethnic nannies, and so she's thankful for the wide distance between them and her peaceful backyard. Logan's currently driving up from New York, and even if she last saw him yesterday, she misses him. She's physically the great age of fifty-two, but her heart beats for him as fast as it did back when she was nineteen. They've been married for twenty years and together for far, far more; this place's yet another milestone of their relationship.

They bought their own Hamptons estate seven years ago as a self-gift for their 10th wedding anniversary, after Rory sternly decided that staying at Emily's Nantucket place couldn't be an option anymore at her elderly age. With six bedrooms, eight bathrooms, a pool, a pool house, a Jacuzzi and even a small private dock, it still wasn't the most impressive household in the neighborhood - those New York-born Waldorf-Basses owned the grandest mansion in the entire county - but after religiously coming at least twice a year, it became a safe haven for them and the kids to escape to. The house visits were often crowded with their closest friends and relatives, although they've yet to arrive at the Hamptons this time, so Rory readies herself to enjoy another day of delightful quietness. Or so she hoped to.

"Mommy!"

A short blur of long limbs and dirty blond hair rushes past her side and onto her lap, and though the weight crushes her, she grins. Ten year-old Dylan, her youngest, pouts in return.

"What's the matter honey?" She coos, brushing hair strands off his eyes; he's in a desperate need of a hair cut.

"Mommy, you know how much I like doing my puzzles with zero distractions, and I went down to the kitchen to do that exact thing but I can't focus because there's so much noise coming from upstairs! I don't know what her deal is but I want you to nicely tell Charlotte to shut up so I can get my work done in time."

"Wow, hold your horses cowboy," she interrupts him, "Your sister is here?"

Dylan rolls his eyes, and he looks so annoyed and cute she refrains from scolding him.

"Yeah mommy, she came around an hour ago but didn't even say hi! She just bolted upstairs with Emme following and shut the door really really loudly... the sound scared me," he begrudgingly admits, and her heart softens for her smart, shy little boy, the one who resembles her the most. She pinches her cheek.

"Honey listen, why don't you get back to your puzzles? Grab a chocolate from the counter while I go to your sissy right now and tell her how naughty and rude she's being m'kay? Now give your mama one big kiss," she brings him closer to her, and he tries to get away, but fails enormously.

"Kisses are yucky mom, let me go!"

They both enter the house, and as Dylan takes back his seat, she walks up the stairs. She lingers on a holo-picture of her three children on Christmas, when she's suddenly startled by a loud noise coming from her daughter's room. She runs to the door and abruptly opens it, and the scene in front of her leaves her speechless. Three things pop quickly into her mind before she can formulate a coherent sentence.

1\. Her daughter's eyes are rimmed with red and tears.

2\. She's holding a big purple air balloon and a needle.

3\. She's wearing crocs and _jeans_. Her daughter _despises_ jeans.

Rory's blue eyes cross looks with her daughter's chocolate ones. She puts her hands in her hips, and cocks her head to the side.

"What the hell is going on? Why are you wearing jeans?" she asks confused, and the purple balloon explodes with a loud "pop!"

Char Huntzberger brushes off the balloon trash from her hands and meets her mother's stare with such intensity unique only to her. At twenty, she's the exact opposite of her mother at that age, and with her long blonde hair, brown eyes and perfect smirk, she mirrors Logan in almost every possible angle.

"Mother, do not swear in front of impressionable children! How can you kiss your mother with that mouth? What would Emily Gilmore think?" she mirrored her father in almost every possible angle but one, her attitude is all Lorelai the Second, "And to answer both of your inquires, a) we're liberating our emotions with an ancient relaxing Greek technique called 'Pop the Balloon', and b) I've decided that I need a little bit of self-loath and torture today, hence the hideous choice of footwear and the oh so delicious pair of jeans, courtesy of the beautiful French-Australian-American Emme, present in the room," she signals to her partner in crime, and only daughter of the exotic Finn and Odette, seventeen year-old Émeraude Élise Taylor-Jones. The brunette smiles weakly at Rory, and attempts to hide the rest of the balloons behind her back.

"Hey Aunt Ror, sorry for the mess," she apologizes, while Char rolls her eyes and aims to grab another balloon to attack, but Rory intercepts her beforehand.

"Hey Émeraude, it's so nice to see you again sweetie, and I'd love to ask about your family's latest escapade to Paris, but I think I have to act like a mother at the moment," she turns to her daughter and snatches the needle out of her hand, "Red eyes, tears, big balloons, and jeans. Explain now."

Char looks at Émeraude for help, but her friend shakes her head in negation.

"I'm not getting you out of this one _ma Char chérie_ , I think you guys should have a talk, so I'll just go downstairs and hang out with Dylan for a while, maybe I'll beat him doing a puzzle! _Á tantôt les filles_ ," the girl closes the door after exiting, and so mother and daughter face each other without a word. Rory takes a step forward.

"You're supposed to be back in New York taking care of your brother," she refers to her middle child, the terrible troublemaker that is Richard Mitchell Huntzberger, or _Risky Ricky_ , as Finn and Colin nickname him when he was only five, "Please talk to me? The suspense is killing me."

Her daughter's tough façade falters, and for a moment, she sees deep sadness and hurt in her brown eyes. Her lip quivers, and she's thrown back to her being fifteen, right after Mitchum had his first heart attack.

"Mom, I screwed up," she says bluntly, "Scratch that, and sorry Granny, wherever you are, but I fucked up, like really, fucked up this time and I don't know if I can fix it," The blonde's voice becomes raspier with each word, and her eyes water again and her breath becomes heavy. Char sits on her bed with her head between her hands, and Rory follows her suit.

"Start from the beginning sweets," Rory suggests, and Char exhales profoundly, "But first I have to ask, is it about Adam?"

Adam William McCrae is the handsome, charming, intelligent, and sexy owner of her daughter's heart since she was three and he was four. Charlotte smiles shortly, but quickly winces.

"What do you think mom?" she laughs half-heartedly, "It's _always_ about Adam, but today I'm the villain of the story."

Her mother holds her hand, and urges her to speak.

"He picked me up yesterday a little bit after Dad left for Finn's; you were already on your way here with Frank, so of course he offered to drive us to Katharine Bass' birthday party, and boy did we have fun, it was maybe the best party I've ever attended, and I myself threw some incredible raves back in high school, but anyways, we drank, we danced, we laughed, and we sneaked back to his apartment, and you know, I won't get into details," Rory tells herself she should be freaked out about her daughter implying about sex, but c'mon her kid's twenty and not stupid, Nana Lorelai assured the sex talk when Char turned thirteen, "but it was an amazing night mother, I haven't words to describe it, and when I woke up this morning, he was already awake and he had his eyes on me, and he stared at me like I was this precious something he was hypnotized by… so of course, I kiss him out of his stupor and we talk in bed for a while, and when I try to go to the bathroom to take a much needed shower, he holds me down by my waist and tells me to wait, and he turns to his bedside and opens a drawer and soon enough, he's got this in his hand," she grabs her bag and takes out a black velvet square box.

Rory's jaw drops to the floor.

"Is that…?" Her journalist, Yale-educated self cannot get her brain to conjure single a word from the English dictionary. Char opens the box with a swift click, and the small diamond sparkles against the sunlight that filters through the window. Charlotte takes it out of the box, and admires it.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she muses, and she puts it on her finger, much to Rory's dismay, "It's a _perfect fit_ , y'know, and just about my style, except I wouldn't have minded a bigger rock… but anyways, he got it out, and he got into a speech about how he knows we're young, both in college, with no jobs, no self-earned money, no freaking idea about what our lives will be like, but he ' _doesn't dare to face the immensity of a future without the certainty of my hand intertwined with his'_ or something like that, it was very poetic, Shakespearean even; I applaud him for the effort, and after that amazing declaration of his undying love for me, he popped the question, and you know what I did?" she stares at her mother with a frantic look, and groans, "I did nothing! I froze in my place for literally ten minutes, and I wanted to utter something out of my mouth, but my voice was gone, and he got from extremely happy to heartbroken in a millisecond and then he got up and invented a stupid excuse about having to meet his father for an urgent matter, but Colin was at Finn's too, and probably very much hung-over, and so I finally unfroze and tried to talk to him but he just said, 'it's okay Lorelai, I think I finally understood' and then he left my naked self and the ring in his apartment, alone. And the rest I think it's self explanatory, I got out of the apartment, picked up Émeraude, and fasted here as furiously as I could," Char licked her lips and inhaled loudly, getting the air back into her lungs after one of her longest rants ever.

"First, I'm so proud about your ability to talk like that," her mother says sincerely, and the blonde chuckles at the way her Rory's mind works, "And secondly… oh my god, it's too much information to process at once."

Her daughter pats her shoulder knowingly.

"If I processed it in a spam of ten minutes, I think you'll do just about fine mommy."

Two minutes pass.

"Okay I'm ready now, so, recapitulating, Adam proposed, you went frozen, he assumed his own conclusions, he left, and you ran away."

"And he left me with the ring, and I screwed up."

"Why do you keep saying you screwed up? You didn't even say a word."

Charlotte rubs the ring, and hugs her knees to her chest.

"Because he called me Lorelai, mom, he _never_ calls me that," she whispers, "And the only other time he's ever called me Lorelai was when I stood him up at his graduation because that bitch at school dared me to, and I was young and foolish enough to think that if I denied a dare my reputation would be ruined," she stretches over her bed, "And now my relationship is ruined, again! Christ, I honestly thought I would be ready the next time he proposed."

With that statement, Rory perks up.

"Stop, rewind, and repeat missy! He's proposed before?" Charlotte regrets having such a lose tongue, but now that the cat's out of the bag, she can't trap it again.

"We were fifteen the first time he proposed," she recalls fondly the day of her birthday bash, and how he got her the prettiest necklace money could buy at the time, "He didn't have a ring, and he might have been tipsy from the beers we found stuffed in fridge, but he said it with the same conviction and assertiveness so like him whenever he means something, but I totally blew him off and we continued being boyfriend and girlfriend," she stretches her arm over her face and squints at her ring, "The second time, he got me this exact same ring, only it didn't have any diamonds encrusted in the platinum band yet. I graduated high school and he was out fresh from his first year at Columbia, and we took the company's chopper up to the Vineyard, remember? We met our friends there, but of course we sneaked off to the beach and he went for it again, but this time it was a simple 'I love you, marry me.' That time I kissed him, and told him that I'd love to, but I wasn't ready for that step yet, and he totally understood and kept the ring, and apparently he thinks I'm ready now, but I don't know what to think or say or do."

"The third time's always the charm, right?" Rory comments sarcastically, but quiets down after a deep glare from Char. She wonders at what to say, but she's as clueless as her blonde counterpart.

"Why would he think you're ready Charlotte?"

"I don't know, I mean we have kind of talked about it recently, not about marriage exactly, but about our careers, and how many kids do we want, stuff like that, you know the drill, and there's also the fact that we've been together since the beginning of times," she retorts, "I'm sorry if I didn't tell you before, but I knew you'd freak out like this."

"What? Me, freaked out? Nah, this is me being totally cool, see? Just chillin' with my homie, who's actually my daughter, but the phrase doesn't sound quite as gangster-ish if homie isn't used in it."

Charlotte laughs once again, and hugs her mother.

"I know you, Lorelai Leigh Gilmore, and I was totally right," she states proudly.

"Who else knows?"

Charlotte frowns.

"Emme, obviously, grandpa Mitchum knows… hey, he knows me back and forth, it was imperative for him to know! And I guess I mentioned it to Nana once, but she thought it was April's Fools, and I guess Colin and Steph know because the ring isn't what you'd call cheap, and maybe Betty knows, but I can't imagine Adam going to his little sister for advice."

"Your dad doesn't know either? If you think I freaked out, he's going ballistic," Rory warns, but Char dismisses her.

"Daddy wouldn't do anything because I got him wrapped around my finger mom," she says casually, and it is true indeed, she's the apple of Logan's eye alongside Rory.

"Well I can't argue that one huh, but sweets, let's get down to business, what do you think? I mean what's going on through that pretty little head of yours? When your father first proposed, I almost peed in my pants, or skirt, which I was wearing instead; Adam claims he's in love with you…"

"It's not a claim," Char snaps sharply, " _It's a fact._ "

"Okay, let's say he's irrevocably, completely in love with you… do you feel the same for him?"

Char stands up and eyes the sea through the window's glass.

" _As the waters covers the sea, so your love covers me_ ," she hums, and she turns with a renewed light in her eyes, "I'm irrevocably, completely in love with Adam William McCrae."

Rory crosses the room to stand at her daughter's side.

"Enough to marry him?"

"If I say yes, would you be disappointed?"

Rory's heart skips a beat at her words, and she thinks about her mother's reluctance to advice her when Logan first proposed, the reason it all went down below.

"Lorelai Charlotte Huntzberger, why in the universe would you think that?"

Char bites her lip.

"Because I'm twenty, and young, and stupid, and all my life you've told me to dream big, to work, to travel, to aim for the stars, wouldn't I be closing myself to that if I marry him now?"

Rory ponders her response, and she decides to change the course of this generation's history.

"I thought the same when your father asked when I was twenty two, and I said no for the exact same reasons, but I didn't realize until got engaged to your Aunt Odette that I committed the most terrible mistake I could've ever done, letting him go, and sweetie, we, as parents, always think and say what we think is best for you, our beloved children, but Char, mark my words and never forget them, _you're the only one that knows what's best for you_ , and if what stopped you before was thinking I wouldn't approve, then I owe you an apology for unwittingly pushing those thoughts onto your mind."

Char can't help to jump into her mother's arms, and cry, a mix of sadness and joy and salt water.

"You don't apologize for loving me and looking out for me, ever again."

"I love you Charlotte, so very much."

Rory breaks the hug, and takes her daughter's left hand.

"I guess we're planning a wedding."

"If I get him to speak to me again… oh god I have to rush back to New York and track him down! Come with me?"

Rory's dying to say yes, to experience this with her, but this is Charlotte's story now, for Rory's already got her happy ending.

"It's your _**time to jump**_ kid, so don't fear the fall."

"I hate it when you're so cliché."

"Hey, I wouldn't be your awesomely embarrassing mother without my clichés! It's like me without coffee, a definitely no-go, and tell Ricky I need him here by Friday!"

"Will do, bye mama, wish me luck! Emme, get your ass on the car, it's time for another road trip!"

Her Rover's out of the driveway the same time a beloved silver Jaguar parks in front of the door. Logan gets out of the car, and it takes less than a minute for Rory to be in his arms, both all over each other; they kiss for a while before they have to breathe again.

"I think we're the only couple in their fifties with this great amount of action Ace," he chuckles, and he caresses her still brown hair, contrasting against his own ashy blond.

"Was that Char? I thought she'd stay in the city," he asks, and as they enter their second home, Rory rubs her temple.

"Sometimes you have an amazing timing, but right now you're late and you missed the tale of a lifetime, c'mon Master and Commander, let's pour you a drink, and then, talk."

* * *

Logan Huntzberger and Rory Gilmore are in the verge of falling asleep, after an entire afternoon of talking and explaining and pondering and stopping a first-degree murder by Logan's hand, when a ping from Rory's phone startles them. She searches for her phone, opening one eye at the time, and as reading the message, she grins like the Mad Hatter.

"Logan, Logan!"

"What is it Ace?"

"Look."

She shows him the message, and a smile creeps upon his face. Charlotte sent a picture. In it, there's Adam and her, fully clothed but soaked to the bones inside the country club's pool, and their hair is all frizzy and they look _so perfectly imperfect_ that, for a second, they aren't Adam and Charlotte, but Rory and Logan after that LDB event, the catalyst to decades of an incredible love. Their daughter is extending her left hand, and on her, she's wearing the ring as shiny as the grin she sports on her face. Enclosed there's a text.

 _Save the date. We jumped._

* * *

 _'People can live a hundred years without really living for a minute. You climb up here with me, it's one less minute you haven't lived. You trust me?'_

 _'You jump I jump, Jack."_


	7. It's me,with a myriad of ideas, and ANs

**Hey guys! I know this isn't an update and I'm sorry if I got your hopes up, but it's been some days since I posted the epilogue and I was wondering, would you be interested if I kept posting chapters focusing in the characters within the story's universe? I was thinking about following the theme of "missing snapshots" of the characters' lives (Rory, Logan, Char, Émeraude, Ricky, Gigi, the rest of the kids) so I can keep writing about this world I've come to love and you guys can keep reading about their lives! So what do you think? If you like the idea please leave a comment below, and if you want to leave a specific prompt or character you want me to write about please tell me!**

 **Love for all, RosygV**


	8. Risk

**You cannot fathom how excited i am for writing this new chapter (literally) of the story and the universe within the universe we all love and obsess about. here it is, without further ado, the first missing snapshot. this goes to user GWN8000, whose prompt helped build the second part of the chapter. read, enjoy, and review. all your prompts and comments are deeply thanked and taken into consideration.**

* * *

 _ **Snapshot #1: Risk**_

* * *

 _August 2039_

Their mouths collide roughly against each other, both fighting to be the lead of the assault, and her back is pressed against the wall, her legs are around his waist, and his hands are all over her ass. He thinks her body's sweeter than poetry. She thinks his blue eyes have the power to subdue her. And they both think they're very, very wrong, that this shouldn't happen, but they cannot quit each other, not when they're already lost.

It was _not_ supposed to happen, but it was definitely, far from unexpected.

* * *

 _Three Months Before_

The Golden Couple that are Charlotte and Adam ditch her the moment they step into the Cooper's yacht to acquaintance with the entire party, and she guards her distance from any guy, or person in general; socializing not being her forte. Her dad's constantly pushing her to go out, and her mom enrolls her to every event in need of young, enthusiastic socialités at any chance she has, but she's always been the wallflower as opposed to Char's social butterfly, and she's got nothing against it, preferring the company of her two horses at the equestrian. She distinguishes Charlotte's laugh within the crowd, but decides to look for her later, when the mob breaks. The brunette makes her way to the bar – she's craved hard liquor since Monday – when someone shouts at her.

"Hey Gemstone, flash me some jewels!"

She's in no mood for jokes about her ridiculous name, and she's ready to pounce as she turns, but when she sees who catcalls her, her frown becomes a surprised, soon happy, expression. She hasn't seen him since the summer before he left for Zugerberg, and he was a young Manhattan womanizer on the rise, but here he is, older, hotter, sexier, and predictably, with two bimbos wrapped around his arms. Still, his grin's directed only at her.

" _Mon Dieu_ , Ricky!" she exclaims, approaching, and getting the bimbos out of her way to envelope him in a hug, "What are you doing here? Does Char knows? Dude, I'm so happy to see you!" He returns her embrace with enthusiasm, and she feels something, a kind of _je ne sais quoi_ down in her gut.

"I'm back for a while, and yes she does, and also, don't say it too loud," he half-pleads, half-jokes as he kisses her cheek, "I go by Richard now, specially with the ladies," his eyes drift to the two angry girls left behind, but he ignores them and returns to the French beauty, who laughs in his face.

"Oh please, you might have… grown while you were away, but you're still the rebellious Risky Ricky we all know and love," she pushes her hair to the side, and a whiff of her perfume reaches his nose, filling his senses. His grin dies down onto his trademark smirk, but with the ghost of a genuine smile in it.

"I'm happy to see you too, Émeraude," he tells her sincerely, and hooks an arm over her shoulders, "Let's get you a drink."

"Right after you."

He steals a bottle of Gin for the two of them, and they go to the farthest part of the deck that's not as cramped with people as the front. In between laughs and drinks, they talk, and catch up with each other's missing years. He's been all around Europe since he went to Switzerland, and although she's half Parisian herself, she's never heard about her ancestral land like that before. He talks about his sex-capades in Moscow, the pot bars in Amsterdam, the nightclubs in Prague, and affairs, countless affairs, with either girls at his school, faculty members, or women from around the area.

"But, I guess I missed the ole' American women," he finishes after his fifth shot of the night, "Nothing better than a New Yorker to get it done."

Émeraude blushes, but downs another shot (she's already waaaay tipsy) and slams the shooter glass against the deck.

"How are you barely eighteen and already a crazed, sex addict?" she blurts, and her face is red and her eyes are glazed by booze and tiredness.

He chuckles, and unconsciously starts playing with a strand of her hair.

"I'd like to say there's anything I love more than sex, but unfortunately, I haven't experienced something that compares to it," at her shocked expression, he chuckles, "C'mon Gem, don't judge, it's not like you're a saintly virgin anyway."

She stays silent, and takes a long swing of the gin bottle. He takes her silence as a response, and his eyebrows rise in curiosity.

"You're a _virgin_? At nineteen?" He spats the word as if it were a sin, and she reddens in anger.

"So what if I am? I, _contrairement des putes communes environ nous_ , chose not to slum it just to give into carnal desires," she stares at him, and closes a little space between, "But being a virgin doesn't mean I'm a saint."

"You are quite sheltered, though."

She raises the liquor and presses the tip to her lips before taking another swing.

"Would a sheltered girl drink as much as I do, jerk?"

"It's very unlikely, but Gem, you could definitely do so much more if you give yourself the chance, if you take _risks_."

"And which risk do you suggest I take, Richard-Almighty?"

"This one."

He grabs her and pushes her against him, and before she can react, his lips cover hers in a passionate outburst. Her eyes are open at first, but she gives into the feeling a second later, opening her mouth and returning the kiss with the same force. They fall into a synchronized pace of tongue and lips, and their hands roam over their bodies. He's placing one hand under her shirt and one over her ass when she stops him.

"Ricky… we can't," she says it with her eyes closed, unsure at what'll she do if he pulls a look on her. He takes her by the face, and their stares cross.

"Why? Don't tell me you haven't thought about it since you saw me," she bits her lip, and he resists the urge to ravish her, but they need to have this conversation.

"Not at that moment, maybe later, but you want a why? You're Risky Ricky, the man whore, my best friend's little brother, my parents' godson; we grew up together, I saw you naked in the bathtub for years!"

"Then there's no problem if you see my naked now, Gem," he reasoned against her weak arguments.

"Ricky… we're at a party, where everyone can see us."

"Let's bail, now! We can take a cab and spend the night at the Plaza," he suggests taking her hand.

"Charlotte will kill me if she finds out I left without her," she argues, and he rolls his eyes.

"Please, she was the one who ditched you the moment you stepped into this yacht… just be bold Émeraude, for once in your life don't think about it."

She recoils from him and crosses her arms.

"Okay, let's say I agree, and we go and I lose my virginity to you and spend a great night, because I know your sex is great, or at least, according to my friends," he smirks at that statement, proud of his skills, "But what about tomorrow, when the sun comes up and the one-night stand's over? How can I deal to see you everyday before summer ends? Sex might be meaningless to you, but it isn't to me."

"You're right, it is meaningless, but only with the girls that are worthless to me, and your definitely not worthless, you're the opposite of worthless Émeraude," he hooks his fingers with hers, "And you're right: I am man whore, I'm against commitment, but let's address the huge sexual tension between us, and hear my proposal: I'll give you the best night of your life, so great you'll never regret choosing to lose your virginity, and then, if you want more, I'll give you more, whenever, wherever you want, no strings, just us."

His hands hold her waist, and trace circles against her skin.

"C'mon Gem, take the risk."

He kisses her again, this time softly, tenderly, and she recalls the stories she's heard about his way with women, how he knows what gets to their heart, and what gets to their pants. This goes against her entire character and judgment, but she's lonely, and even if he doesn't admit it, he's too. And he wants her, who would've guessed?

"Okay, but I want the Peninsula, not the Plaza, the presidential suite of course, and we have to keep this under a hundred layers of wraps, I don't want anyone to know I'm getting involved with _you_ , _compris_?"

 _"_ _Votre souhaites sont mes ordres, ma dame."_

 _"_ _Parfait, on y va."_

* * *

 _The Day After_

It was indeed, the best night of _both_ of their lives.

* * *

 _The Present_

They aimed to keep it strictly sexual, but they are humans, and they have _goddamned feelings_ that screw everything up. He's the reason she's smiling and going out more and more these days, and she's the reason he's stopped being such a jerk to the world – a point strongly noted by his mother -. They push each other, challenge each other; they simply _better_ each other; but they are too stubborn to admit it, and putting the honesty card on the table, they're scared about their families' reaction, due to his reputation, and her barely-touched heart, being on the line. He runs his fingers over her sides, and she moans as she opens her eyes and stares into his. Lust is engrained on hers, and he can't help but thing her name is the most fitting of them all, for her eyes are two gleaming emeralds: bold, exotic, rare, and precious.

"You're staring," she purrs, and cocks an eyebrow teasingly. She has a dimple in the left corner of her mouth that stands out when she does her attempt of a sexy smile, and he presses his lips over hers, caressing her lips when they part.

"Can't help it when you're the hottest girl in the room," he argues, pulling closer to her. She huffs.

"I'm the only girl in the room," she raises her hand and signals his father's empty studio, "And although I don't dislike _les compliments_ , _on sait que_ your game is way better than that."

He untangles her legs from his body for her to stand up, and as soon as her feet touch the ground, he turns her around so her back presses against his chest. He puts his hand over her breast, and presses wet kisses over the one spot behind her ear that leaves her breathless. She rolls her eyes and pants, her hands tightening her hold of his chestnut hair.

"Talking about this game, Gem?" he whispers in her ear, his fingers moving down and down and down.

" _Si tu arrêtes, t'es mort_ ," she manages to say in bliss, and they're too caught up with each other to hear the click of the door opening.

"Is anyone in he… holy shit," the door shuts closed, and both teens lose hold of each other, and Richard and Émeraude, hot, aroused, bothered, and busted, turn around to face the stunned, pale figure that is his dad. She gulps.

 _"_ _Mérde."_

* * *

Logan's feared this day since Richard first learned to crawl. Amongst his children, Charlotte and Richard inherited his infamous charm, but Risky Ricky's the one that followed his father's footsteps up to the T. It started at a young age with his attitude against the nannies, thing that Rory managed to subdue, but then he started school, and all hell went loose. Ricky's preschool and elementary years went by with weekly calls from his principals at the time, complaining about his restlessness and troublemaking. Then he got into middle school, and it got worse. He got into pranks, very elaborate, LDB worth pranks for a middle schooler, and was expelled from every prep school in the Manhattan area freshman year. Lorelai suggested sending him to her and Stars Hollow for a dose of tough love, but then, the summer before sophomore year he sat Rory and him down and asked to attend a boarding school, admitting that 'his behavior hadn't been correct whatsoever' and wanted to start anew in the other side of the globe. Logan wasn't excited about it, being shipped off to boarding school himself several times, but Rory convinced him, stating that even though it'd be difficult to have him away, it was also difficult to keep up with his 'antics'. He started to get good grades after that, and of course he got into trouble, but less than before. It seemed his focus had drifted away from trouble, to females.

Logan can recognize a womanizer from a mile away, and he knew his son had become one the moment they reunited with him for the first parents' weekend. The way he held himself, the way girls stared at him… it was so Logan Huntzberger circa 2001. He never discussed it with his wife, but he decided to ignore the fact his son went from bed to bed on a regular basis, trusting he'd leave that behavior reserved for Switzerland and not New York. He had trusted wrong.

He plays with his glass of scotch neat for some minutes when his son reenters the room alone. His shirt and hair are rumpled, and his pale skin is still flushed, but he walks with composure and confidence to sit in front of his father's desk. They're both unsure of what to say, so Logan talks first, ever the eloquent one.

"Is Émeraude still here?" he toys with the question carefully, expecting a reaction from his son's face. He has a perfect poker face.

"I called Frank the instant we exited the studio, she's on her way home now," he answers swiftly, eyeing his dad's scotch, but with not enough guts to ask for one.

"Finn and Odette are out of town," he comments.

"She's got a key and the maid to help her out."

Logan places his scotch on the table.

"I'm not going to pretend I'm surprised about you having sex around the house, but that doesn't mean I condone it, understood? What I am surprised about is to find my best friend's daughter as the one you're fooling around with, and not a faceless girl without any connection to us. She's Finn's kid, Richard. Your crazy, ireful, Aussie godfather and you had to choose his only daughter as one of your many conquests, are you out of your mind?"

"It doesn't mean anything Dad," his voice is dead serious, but his eyes, just like Rory's, betray his emotions.

"Like hell it does, you can't lie to me Ricky."

"Look, she wanted some company, and I wanted some company for the summer too, and we were together at the right time and place, and it just happened, but we'll stop, okay? Just chill, it doesn't have to get bigger than it is."

"Son, I know what your mind's set like, it's all about no work and just play, a string less, lavish existence with excess and women, and I do know because I was like you when I was young, grossed out by commitment and relationships and all that mushy crap your mom's books are about. Believe me, been there, done that. And I also know that lifestyle is addictive, and tough to put behind, but I saw how you looked at Émeraude after I caught you, and I know you have feelings for her, and she's not 'some company' to you anymore."

"Lust is a feeling, Dad."

"I was referring to romantic feelings, Richard Mitchell."

"Jeez Logan Elias, do you mean love? Because I'm a hundred percent sure I'm not in love with Gem – I mean, Émeraude. I'm not in love with Émeraude."

"Yet," Logan knows he's already fallen; the nickname's the giveaway. Huntzbergers don't do nicknames, not if they don't mean something good.

"There's no yet, or later, or someday Dad, so let me point out the facts to you: she's nice, I'm not, she has a heart, I have a penis, I'm having fun, she's having fun, and I'm going back to Switzerland in month, and she's starting Yale this semester, so if there was the far, remote, small possibility of my whatever I feel for her to grow, it wouldn't matter anyway, because we wouldn't work out."

"Why are you so against of feeling, Ricky?"

"Gee, you sound like Mom after a parents' meeting."

 _"_ _Richard Huntzberger."_

Ricky rests against the leather chair, defeated.

"We weren't supposed to feel anything, it was firstly pure, raw sex," he's not afraid of the lose way he's speaking to his elder father, "And I tried to keep emotions out of the way, but we started to know each other, I mean really know each other, and suddenly sex didn't matter so much anymore, and we just hung out, talked, went out, drank, laughed, slept with each other, and then repeated the circle the next day, but she was so adamant to keep it under wraps, thank God Char and Adam left to tour Asia together for the entire break, because I don't think I would've enjoyed Émeraude the way I have if my sister were here," he looks at his dad for comfort, and sighs, " I don't know what I'm supposed to think or do, Dad, this is a first for me."

Logan throws his head back in laughter.

"It's so weird to see my twenty year old self standing right in front of me," he says, "and I'm sorry, because all that aversion and defiance comes entirely from genetics, but Rick, as your father and friend, don't close yourself to life. Take a risk, and fall, not from a cliff particularly, but falling in love could be a great starting point."

"I don't want to break her heart, tough, what if I truly can't commit, not after years of avoiding to do so?"

"There's this thing called time, and effort, both of which together, do a marvelous work. You might be misguided, Ricky, but you're a hell of a kid, so don't let your insecurities rule your life for you."

"I think we've reached the Lifetime movie part of the conversation, so let's just stop before it gets too sappy."

The blond stands up, and pats his son on his right shoulder.

"If it were for me, I'd hug you right now, but your eighteen, not eight, and so it'd be awkward for the both of us, so here's my alternative, take my car."

"I can take the Jag?"

"Yes, the Jag, and go to Émeraude's, and work it out while you can, because believe me, you'll never know what a girl can do to you until she's the right one."

"We're not even out of high school yet Dad, how can you think about marrying us off?"

"It's something old money families do called the dynastic plan, Ricky, but don't worry, I'd be dead before I let anyone choose your life for you."

"You're kind of cool, you know?"

"I know, but it brings me incredible satisfaction to hear you say it."

"Thanks Dad."

"You're welcome, Risky."

* * *

Ring, ring, ring.

" _Oui_?"

"What's your heart's deepest desire at the moment?"

"A mind-erasing machine to wipe out your dad's encounter with us, and a gelato from the Fifth."

"The first one will take me at least a week to get, but the second one, that I can do. I'm downstairs, Rapunzel, let down your hair?"

"Give me five minutes, or that won't be the only thing coming down."

* * *

He ends up enrolling at Collegiate for his senior year, and the first weekend of the semester, instead of bar hoping or partying; he does the only logical thing to do. He drives up to Yale.


	9. Sisters

**As always, reviews, follows, favorites, and suggestions are deeply expected and appreciated. xx**

* * *

 _ **Snapshot #2: Sisters**_

* * *

 _February 2019_

Gigi's always believed being enrolled in a boarding school is the earthly equivalent of being trapped in your own personal hell for ten months straight, but today she considers being slightly wrong, because while she stands waiting at the school's main entrance, bag in hand, and admires the winter wonderland only February in Massachusetts provides, she thinks that out of the four boarding schools she's attended, Andover might be the one she hates the less. She eyes her wristwatch with impatience, and contemplates calling the car service once again, but she's interrupted by a high-pitched voice coming from behind.

"Gee you're still here? You left the dorms hours ago," her roommate Shannen asks surprised.

"I'd like to suppose there's a lot of snow on the road for my car to reach full speed," she picks on the loose ends of her blonde braids and sighs, "Besides, my father won't be home until five."

" _If_ he shows up at all," Shannen adds, earning a scowl from the blonde.

"Of course he will, he promised!"

"Gi, you've told me it's always the same: he says he will show up, and you get all excited about it, and then he bails on you for some work thingy at the last moment, and you forgive him altogether and pretend he didn't break your heart for the millionth time."

"It isn't that bad, he's a busy man that's all, and this time, I know it'll be different. It's my sixteenth birthday, not just a regular day! At any rate the worst thing he could do is being late."

"Well then you can be late together, like father like daughter!" Shannen jokes, and Gigi's look sobers. She puts her mouth over her friend's with rush.

"Can you shut up? Or lower your voice? It's definitely not funny Shan," she argues, and releases her.

"Oh please Georgia, everybody knows about the party, for god's sake everybody did something at the party not just you, I mean, have you even talked to Terry ever since?" her friend wonders, and Gigi shakes her head in response, "And have you gotten around i _t_ yet?"

"It's the first order of business arriving home," she answers swiftly, "And I'll call you the second I get around the news to give you a very well deserved update."

"You better do, or else who's gonna design all the announcements?"

"There'll be no announcements whatsoever."

"E-mails then? Or maybe a short ad in one of your sister's newspapers!"

"Like I'd even have a normal conversation with her, let alone for a publicity favor."

"How long has it been since you last talked?"

"To put it lightly, I had braces and pink stripes in my hair."

"Yikes."

"Yeah; whoever said blood is thicker than water obviously hasn't met my family."

The car finally arrives, and the two friends hug quickly before saying their goodbyes.

* * *

Christopher Hayden might be a loaded, successful businessman, but deep down he's still the same simple guy whose only known way of spending benjamins is buying motorcycles, so they still reside in the same two-bedroom apartment he had when Gigi came into the world. She's supposed to act like a normal teenager and complain about the lack of space in her relatively small bedroom, but she likes the apartment, and the stillness that surrounds it; it gives her a sense of normality and stability lacking from her constant rotation around schools and countries. Her iPhone beeps for the third time in ten minutes, and she almost responds to her mother's urgent texts, but if Sherry's lived for more than five months without trying to contact her, she'd be able to wait until tomorrow morning for a court response. The doorman greets her warmly when she steps out of the car, and helps carry her luggage upstairs, though she keeps a tight grip on the small plastic bag between her hands. Traffic was terrible after taking the main highway, so the journey lasted a whole hour and a half more than foreseen, the outskirts of Hartford being reached around a quarter past six. On top of all, her dad's phone seems to be out of battery, as her messages aren't sent or notified as received.

"Dad, I'm home!" she says when she reaches the door, and takes her keys out.

She juggles with the apartment keys in a rush, and when she finally opens the door, instead of running into a very annoyed but present parental figure, she meets complete obscurity and silence. The apartment is dead empty, even the maid has left for the day, and the only light in it is the incandescent orange of the answering machine. She leaves the plastic bag on the counter, and presses the listening button hoping to hear whichever news people've left.

 _Message Number 1 - Chrissy darling, why do you have an iPhone if you don't know how to use it? I called because I wanted to tell you what a great time I had last night -_

She skips 'whatever bimbo her dad's screwing at the moment' message, and her heart jumps when she hears the next one.

 _Message Number 2 - Christopher, it's Sherry. I think it's about time Georgia comes home to Paris for at least a few days, so if you'd be considerate enough to send a check to pay for all the extra expenses – Beep._

Gigi releases the breath she was holding and stops the tears pooling in her eyes from falling down, anger and a foreign tingle of disappointment boiling in her chest. Of course Sherry needed money, so of course she'd try to talk her into going to Paris to get the bills paid deceivingly by Chris. There's one message left to hear, and Gigi thinks her day couldn't get any worse than it is.

 _Message Number 3 - Hello Mrs. McDonald, this is Mr. Hayden's assistant calling to inform you that Mr. Hayden won't be having dinner at home this afternoon, so he asked me to tell you that you're free to go home as early as you wish because he won't be arriving until late, goodbye!_

She cannot believe it.

She's always optimistic about her father; she's always put her damned faith in him, and she's always giving him the benefit of the doubt after she gives him another chance.

This time, she's fucking done.

Shannen was right. Not only didn't he show up, and not only did he make plans for the night, he totally forgot about the late birthday dinner she planned for a month, and for which she went through a ridiculous amount of paperwork to get the permission to leave Andover on a regular school day. She's a firm advocate against the dumb blonde stereotype, but she can't help but feel like a stupid idiot whose as naïve as a three-year-old child. The tears come down and she lets them run freely as she contains her urge to scream and break some expensive shit around the apartment. She kicks her bag against the counter, and the plastic bag falls, dumping its content on the floor. The sight of the thin box half brings Gigi back into her senses, and she grabs the box and her belongings to exit the front door, but not before taking the time to write a hasty note.

 _By the time you remember you have a daughter, you'll find out you've already lost her. Congratulations on fifteen years of fatherhood. G_

She slams the door closed, and a framed picture of the two Haydens falls. The glass cracks over their smiling faces.

* * *

 _You've reached the Straub Residence, but we're unavailable as of this moment, so please state your name and business with us and we'll call you back as soon as we can. Beep._

"Hello Grandmother, it's Georgia, I need to talk to you as soon as you get back home, okay? Call me back, love you."

* * *

 _Welcome to the Gilmore-Danes residence answering machine! Woof that's a handful of a denominator for such a simple and humble house, totally fault of my lovely husband Luke! Anyways, it's obvious neither of us is home right now, or maybe we don't want to answer you, so ple- Beep._

* * *

 _Hey! Apparently technology has evolved to the point that cellphones can have personalized answering machines, so I can warmly greet you to the Lorelai House of Pleasure mobile number, if you want to spice up your life with some honey lovin' from this lovely Betty, leave a message and I'll get back at ya, sugah'. Beep._

"Lorelai? It's Georgia, I mean Gigi, your ex-stepdaughter and the fruit of Chris' erratic passions, I happen to be in Hartford at the moment but my family's too busy to pick up the phone, and I just need someone right now, are you at home? I could call a car and…" _Beep._

* * *

She takes the last bus leaving for Manhattan. It's almost empty, thank God, and so she makes herself comfortable in her minuscule seat. She takes her phone out and leaves the button pressed for a few moments.

"Siri, google Lorelai Gilmore Huntzberger."

* * *

New York at night is buzzing, and so is the phone, loud across the room. Logan looks up his laptop for the first time in hours to see if Rory's going to get it. She's knocked out on her side of the bed, predictably after dealing with the toddling hurricane that is Charlotte at ten months old, and his partner – girlfriend, lover, or any title in the Oxford English Dictionary but wife? – looks so peaceful and lost in her sleep he decides not to interrupt her rest. He gets up to answer the call, but the numbers on the digital clock beside the phone startle him. Who's calling his home at almost midnight?

"Yes?"

A young, raspy voice speaks at the other side of the line.

"Um, hey, is this Rory Gilmore's home?"

"It depends, who's looking for her?"

Silence, and a sharp breathe.

"Are you Logan Huntzberger?"

"Yes I am, look, it's late; who's calling?"

"Hi Logan, it's Georgia – I mean, Gigi Hayden… Rory's half-sister."

His body relaxes in realization, and his demeanor changes.

"Gigi Hayden, wow it's been what, nearly twelve years? You must be in high school by now."

"Yeah, I'm in the spring semester of my freshman year at Andover."

"Andover as in Massachusetts? I didn't know you were living in this side of the pond!"

"I haven't lived in Europe since I was six years old Logan," her voice tightens, and continues, "Anyways I didn't exactly call to chit chat, is Rory there?"

"Yes she is, but let me tell you, she's currently in her fifth dream of the night, so I don't know how much it'll take to wake her up, but if there's something I can do for you…"

"Yes there is, actually," she chuckles nervously, "Could you come and pick me up?"

"From Andover?"

"No Logan, look, I'm at the 86th Street Bus Station, and it's really late, I'm freezing my ass off, and I'm also on the verge of a really serious nervous break down and believe me, Rory didn't get all of her dramatic flare from Lorelai, so please, do me this one big favor the sake of our nearly non-existent half- sibling-in-law bond."

"You're here in New York?"

"I had nowhere else to go."

He's heard the loneliness that colors her voice before in his own voice, and he sighs.

"It's going to take me at least fifteen minutes to get there, more depending on the traffic."

"As long as you don't bail on me you can arrive whenever you want."

"Okay then, I'll see you soon."

He's about to hang up when she stops him.

"Logan," she starts, and her voice quivers, "I don't really know you, and you don't really know me, but from one stranger to another, thank you."

"No problem, kid."

He hangs up and grabs his coat and keys, and approaches to Rory's side of the bed. It takes him five complete minutes to bring her back to the land of the living, but as soon as he mentions the name Gigi Hayden, her eyes snap wide open.

* * *

Gigi is cold, tired, and emotionally drained by the time Logan and her enter the penthouse. Rory's waiting by the living room, coffee mug in hand, and she stands up abruptly when she hears them enter. The siblings freeze, and stare at each other for the first time in several years.

In the blonde's eyes, Rory Gilmore looks the same, maybe a little bit chubbier than before, but the loveliness Lorelai Gilmore once held had definitely been passed down to her offspring.

In the brunette's eyes, the baby girl in pigtails she once babysat and played with has disappeared, instead replaced by a tall, slender young teenager with under eye-bags, long blonde hair, and exhuming unfamiliarity.

Rory recovers from her shock, grins, and engulfs her sister in a big bear hug, while Gigi stands there, careful about her movements.

"Oh my god it's been so long! What were you, nine, ten? I was over the second Obama campaign and dad, you and I had lunch and your hair was pink, right? Oh, and the braces! You had braces on but now you don't and your smile is beautiful! Not that it wasn't beautiful before…"

"Rory," she's used to Shannen's intensity, but she's forgot about the famous Gilmore pace, "It's good to see you too, it certainly has been too long," she tries to avoid being accusatory, but the only thing life's taught her right are sarcasm and bitterness.

"I know, and I'm sorry for losing touch, it's just that this past decade has been…"

"Erratic?"

"Yeah, and hectic."

The sisters fall silent, and Gigi takes a look around the apartment. Rory and Logan motion for her to sit down on the large couch, and she gladly accepts.

"Would you like anything to drink? Water, chocolate, coffee? You like coffee, right?"

The teen chuckles.

"I do like coffee, but I'm feeling quite uneasy at the moment, so I'm fine thank you."

Rory smiles, but as noticing the seriousness in Gigi's face, her excitement fades.

"So Gigi, what brings you to New York at midnight on a Friday?" Logan asks casually, seating next to Rory.

"You're always welcome, at any day or hour," the glare her sister sends her boyfriend is legendary, and she stifles a laugh, "But it is kind of unexpected, aren't you supposed to be at school, Choate right?"

"Choate was three years ago," she corrects, and Rory frowns, "I'm in my freshman year at Andover, FYI, and yes we don't have any near holidays, but my birthday was on Monday, and don't worry about it, it isn't a big deal so don't beat yourself over forgetting it, and I asked for a special permission to spend the weekend at Dad's to celebrate, but obviously, plans fell through."

"Tell us about it, I think Logan and I could give a lecture on absentee fathers if the subject came to be."

"My dad isn't an absentee," she snaps, and quickly regrets it, "He's just, he's still grasping fatherhood."

"After sixteen years? And another eighteen of barely there effort?"

"Okay he's a shitty dad but so what, even from a thousand miles away Sherry manages to be one to, so I'm perfectly used to it, as long the credit card bills are paid I'm fine," her throat tightens and she tries to believe what she just said, but her heart and the weight she's on her shoulders tell a different story, "Chris tends to cancel last minute, and I know for a fact I wouldn't be this upset if I didn't feel like crying and needing some support at the moment."

Her hands shake, and Logan and Rory cross looks, both getting worried about the fragile girl on their couch. Rory stands to seat next to her sister, and puts her hand on her back.

"Hey, is something wrong? You can tell us anything Gi, we'll help with anything."

"Yes if you need money, or a place to stay, or a way to bribe your teachers for an A+ on your history paper…"

"Logan!"

"Sorry Ace, just trying to light up the mood."

They both focus on the blonde, whose knuckles are white from clutching her purse too hard.

"I went to this back to school party in the Upperclass dorms last month, and I ended up sleeping with this guy, Terry," the adults' shocked expression doesn't go unnoticed by her, and she barely smirks, "Please, don't be so prude, as if you didn't have sex when you were younger."

"I first had sex when I was in college, not in my freshman year," Rory tries to reason, but fails.

"Whoa, who said it I was a virgin?" her sister's eyes widen, and Gigi sighs, "Okay I'll stop talking about my sex life now, but I'll just add that I had a couple of other encounters with him, but last week, something happened."

"What, did he hurt you or something?" Logan's voice is grave and concerned.

Gigi's eyes look up, and they're filled with tears.

"Gosh no, he's a gentleman, but when I said something happened, it's more like something didn't happen," she takes out the pregnancy test she's been carrying around all day, and puts it on the table in front of her, "I'm late."

"Holy shit," Rory puts her hands over her mouth, and her pulse quickens slightly.

"That was a mirror image of my reaction," Gigi brushes off some lone tears off her cheeks, "And I was planning on telling Dad tonight because he's been through this before, I mean…" she moves her hand to signal Rory's being, "But of course, he had to forget about our dinner, and I called my grandmother, but she wasn't home, and then I think about Lorelai and how she's the perfect guidance for this kind of predicament, but she wasn't home either, and she didn't answer her phone, and then I thought of you, my estranged half-sister who lives in New York with her kid and her boyfriend after finally finding her happily ever after, but then I realized I didn't have a clue on how to contact you, so I just took my things and hopped on the next bus to New York, and I'm tired and sure I'll have a cold tomorrow and I know I need to know if my life's gonna do a 360 turn, but I didn't want to do it alone."

"Oh, Gigi," Rory exclaims, and hugs her sister tightly, years of absence vanished between them, "I may not be the ever-present sister you need, and I'll definitely give dad a piece of my mind the next time I see him, but you can always count on me, Logan, Charlotte, even my mom okay? If you're related to one Gilmore you get the whole deal man, that's how it works."

Gigi attempts to smile, but fails miserably.

"What if I'm pregnant? I'll be a total disappointment."

"To whom?"

"To myself."

The sisters' hug strengthens, and Rory caresses her hair.

"Georgia, before we assume stuff, maybe you should take the test, but also, before you actually know, just have in mind that having a baby at sixteen isn't the end of the world, but the beginning of a new one, okay?"

"You sound like a Lifetime movie, please stop."

"Kid, my life _is_ the ultimate Lifetime movie."

"Oh yeah I heard about it, you're a wedding crasher now right?"

Rory throws a pillow at Gigi's face, and ushers her through the guest restroom door.

"We'll be right outside!" she shouts, and takes her place besides Logan, who grabs her hand in support.

"This feels like a dèja-vu, and I wasn't even alive during the first teen pregnancy of the family," Rory muses, and her coffee's cold, but she drinks it anyway.

"I can't believe Chris would just send his daughter to a boarding school without wondering about her wellbeing once in a while," Logan comments, and Rory pats his knee.

"I'm sure he does his best, but unfortunately his best isn't enough," the restroom door opens, and Gigi walks out with the test wrapped on toilet paper, and a blank face.

"Okay, let's wait."

They talk a little bit about school and Char when the timer they set starts ringing. Gigi moves in slow motion, and Rory and Logan sit still, the immensity of the moment swallowing any noise.

Georgia Hayden picks up the pregnancy test, and looks at the results. Her chest rises and falls one deep time, and her mouth transforms into a watery smile.

"Negative."

Gigi releases the sob she's been holding for the entirety of the day, and Rory closes her eyes in relief.

"I am not pregnant, I am NOT pregnant," the blonde repeats to herself, "I've got to call Shannen and tell her to stop the announcements."

"You were planning to announce your pregnancy?"

"My friend, she's great at graphic designing and she wanted to do this cute little posters…"

An INXS tune blares from her phone, and she answers the call swiftly.

"Hello?" her father's voice on the line is frantic, and apologetic, and so familiar and warm she tears up at the sound of it, "Hi Daddy, no no I'm okay, yes Dad don't worry about it, we'll rain check only if you swear on your motorcycle you'll show up, look I'm sorry for the note I didn't mean it, but I was so angry… yeah I guess I had the right don't I," she glances at the couple waiting expectantly on her, and she shifts her phone to her other ear, "Look Daddy it's late and I've had a frantic day so why don't I call you tomorrow? I'm fine Dad I promise, I'm actually in Manhattan," she sits next to Rory and puts her arm around her shoulder, "Who am I with, is that even a question? I'm with my sister; I'm with Rory, and Logan too actually."

Five hours ago she had no mom, no dad, and no support. Right now, she's regained a sister, a brother-in-law, and cute as a button little baby niece.

"Yes dad, I promise. I'm fine. I love you. Talk to you later."


	10. Loss

**Hello guys, i know it's been pretty much a year but i've just entered college and it's both amazing and a mess at the same time, but i've had this plot bunny for a month now and well, i know it's not the usual dialogue filled chapters i tend to write but grief isn't easy, both in life and paper, i hope you enjoy and please review, for the love of God! i'm desperate for some feedback and also suggestions for the next chapter. x**

* * *

Loss

* * *

 _Fall 2040_

 _How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die? Is it love we just hold on to, never easy, but we try?_

The quasi nasal tingle of Céline Dion's melodic voice fills my ears as I take the hottest shower of my life. Even though supposed to be cleansing, I can't help to feel sweaty and suffocated, but the need to breathe properly is the only thing grounding me to my sanity at the moment. I've always enjoyed the feeling of being encased in a vapor bubble, and this precise bathroom, the one in the Huntzberger palace – I refuse to call it anything less grand – 90% covered in mirrors, creates the effect of my own personal chamber of Hell, or basically a sauna. My lungs, previously obstructed with the feeling of despair, feel lighter and thus I inhale deeply, trying to calm my senses and think logically. First, let's round up the current facts.

My name is Charlotte Huntzberger, and I'm 23 years old.

Today is September 23rd, the Fall Equinox.

I'm showering at the Palace, my home for the past four months.

It's been a year since I graduated from Yale.

I should be downstairs with my family, but I can't face them.

I was supposed to be married today.

I was supposed to be happy, but I'm not.

I'M NOT FINE.

And the source of it all: Grandpa Mitchum is dying.

It's funny really, how the universe conspired against me to make Mitchum Huntzberger the dearest person in my life. Even though my siblings and I spent half of our childhood at Stars Hollow under Lorelai II's care, the happiest moments that always come to mind are coming to the Palace to see Grandpa; we'd spend most our time together in his study, reading, "working", or just chatting about my life and my well-being. To most, Mitchum was the devil incarnated. To me, he was the one who loved me the most. And now he's dying, with a terrible prognosis and even more terrible odds of lasting through the weekend. You'd think he'd be suffering a terrible, nondescript incurable disease, but like most of the world's sick population, his life is being taken away by plain old cancer in the blood. Leukemia. It's moments like this when I wish I'd gone to medical school, as I can't help to feel impotent, and, ignorant, and restless about my inability to make him better. The water turns cold at last and I turn it off, letting the steam disperse for some seconds before exiting the shower. The mirrors are fully blurred, except for the one closest to the window, where I can see my unrecognizable reflection. Ever since I moved in to become Grandpa's official care taker, my mood as well as my appearance have gloomed. The bags under my eyes are deep and purple, my blonde hair is unkept and tangled most of the time, I've lost at least 5 pounds, and my eyes don't shine anymore. That's what happens when you see how a loved one deteriorates before your own stupid eyes. Celine blares across the room, and I replay the track over and over again – Grandpa first introduced me to the old live-action of Beauty and the Beast, the one where UN Chairwoman Watson stars in - while I get ready to face, unironically, the music. I understand the need to reinforce family ties before an upending tragedy, but I mean, even grandmother Gilmore is here, and she hates Mitchum, and I for once, hate hypocrisy. And there's also another elephant in the room, my estranged fiancé Adam, whom I haven't seen since I postponed the wedding plans until further notice and ran out of our apartment in Manhattan to stay here. My engagement ring is still on my finger of course, and the wedding is still a done deal, but my mind has been about saving Grandpa I haven't even responded to the entirety of his texts. I hope he understands. Almost ready, I open my jewelry closet and wonder what to wear today. Grandpa's noticeable favoritism towards me mostly came in the form of expensive and exotic jewelry, always giving me the rarest and precious pieces money could buy. At first I didn't wear them at all – probably my prude of a mother's influence – but now I flaunt around the house dressed in almost rags, but adorned with millions of dollars. A strange sensation in my heart urges me to pick Grandpa's favorite pieces – a pair of 4 carat radiant-cut South African diamond earrings commissioned for my debutante ball, an 18th century Imperial Japanese pearl necklace acquired at an auction in Tokyo, said to be worn by the wife of the Emperor, and my signature accessory and by far, the most ostentatious, ridicule, and sentimental piece of my collection, a record breaking 22 carat Colombian emerald solitaire ring commissioned for my 18th birthday, which according to aunt Odette is valued in about 10 million. The jewelry contrasts with my lack of makeup and simple white t-shirt and black slacks, and I can feel the envious stares of Shira, and my cousins, and the disapproving eyes of my mother, and the concerned ones of my father and fiancé, and the complying smirks of my siblings and I smile, because I'm a fucking heiress and I'm having an emotional crisis and honestly, I don't give a damn of what anyone thinks right now.

* * *

The Palace's salon reeks of tobacco and scented vapor as I open the mahogany doors and make my grand entrance, and as expected, all eyes are on me. My father immediately stands up and gives me a bear sized hug; at first it feels awkward as I have tended to elude human contact for the past few months, but his cologne is the same one Grandpa wears for special occasions, and I take in the scent and melt into his arms, feeling seven again.

"How's my caramel-covered apple doing today," Daddy mutters to my ear, and I have a genuine laugh for the first time in days. I look up to see his face and notice the wrinkles around his eyes, and his 3-day beard, and the white coming out of his roots, and for the first time it occurs to me that my parents are getting old too, and that time is a bitch and escapes nobody. Dammit, my eyes are starting to water.

"Well, I slept more than 5 hours today, which is an improvement from the past week," I respond, getting out of his embrace to go sit next to Dylan, my favorite brother. He's turning 13 this year, and is almost as tall as my mother now. He takes my hand without uttering a word and I'm thankful for the lack of questioning on his side. Richard, as usual, is nowhere to be seen, probably running around with Emeraude in Stars Hollow or at the Gilmore estate in Hartford. He's the unofficial heir to the Gilmore's, as both Emily and Lorelai adore him to death; maybe that's why he dislikes the Huntzbergers so much, maybe grandmother and great-grandmother transmitted their own feelings onto him. Mentioning the Wicked Witch of the West, she's stationed next to my mother, and predictably, her eyes widen an judge my jewelry.

"Going somewhere so pampered, sweet cheeks?" she asks, her voice laced with fake sweetness towards me.

"Nowhere special Lorelai," I answer swiftly, and I can see my mother twitch at my lack of emotion towards her mother, "Just felt like looking sparkly today."

"Now I see why Ror's keeps using the same old earrings I got her years ago, you surely raided her jewelry box," she comments and the sarcasm is palpable. I smirk.

"How ironic, grandmother, given the fact that you live vicariously off my parents' money as your little hostel barely scrapes by every…"

"That's enough Charlotte," my mother speaks and we cross looks, blue and brown clashing defiantly, "Apologize to your grandma, you have no right to be that rude no matter your current emotional circumstances, and yes, why are you wearing all that?"

My hands run over my necklace, and my voice comes out in an almost whisper.

"These are Grandpa's favorites," I explain, eyeing her carefully, "And I don't know if there'll be another chance for me to wear them for him, so I choose to wear them now."

Grandmother Shira speaks to me for the first time in a week. She was sitting next to Honor, her husband, and my cousins Michael and Nicholas, chatting in a hushed tone when she stands up and starts walking towards me.

"Those pearls were supposed to be mine, I was the one who told Mitchum about the Tokyo event, but I admit they suit you perfectly," her frail finger run across my cheek in an attempt to caress me, and I appreciate the gesture, even though she's never cared a lot for me – auntie Honor's _boys_ stole her heart when they were born – she's proud enough to stand up for me in my feud with Lorelai, "You, the ultimate Huntzberger princess."

"Thanks Grandma, how is he today?" I ask, haven't been to his room all day.

"Dr. Vikram is with him right now, performing his weekly analysis," auntie Honor chimes in and I smile profoundly at her, "Hopefully, he'll come any minute now with some good news."

"I wish I could provide with what you want," a voice comes from the salon's entrance, and the entire family turns to the newly arrived Dr. Vikram, the Huntzberger longtime personal physician. He's got plastic globes on his hands protecting a platinum Patek Phillipe I personally bought for him as a thank you for all his services, and he takes them off as he enters the room, "Unfortunately, I'm the bearer of grave news."

I can feel the tension in the room turning to dread.

"How's my father Vik? Please, be honest," Daddy takes my mother's hands and she strokes them gently, trying to offer him some comfort.

"Logan, Mrs. Shira, Honor, you know how much I've enjoyed working for you after all this time, and I wish I had something else in my power to help Mitchum, but his cancer is far too advanced at this point, and given his age, the fact he refused chemo and the lack of effect alternative medicine had on him … I'm so sorry to say that there's nothing else to do, but say your goodbyes."

They say shock numbs your senses, but I think it amplifies mine.

I can hear the choked sobs in Shira's throats escaping.

I listen to auntie Honor's gasps and silent tears.

Daddy doesn't say a thing, but I know there's disbelief in his eyes and sorrow in his heart.

And I, Lorelai Charlotte Huntzberger, can feel the heat of the room, the tears on my cheeks, my mother's stare, my brother's hug, my lungs on fire, and the world crashing down on my fucking human body. This is it. It is goodbye.

* * *

 _…_ _Sometimes our happiness is captured, somehow, our time and place stand still…_

The adults decide to hold personal encounters with Mitchum; Dr. Vikram said he won't last through tomorrow, and to seize the day for everyone to come. Daddy calls the HPG lawyers, Honor calls our extended relatives, Mother tracks down Finn, Colin, their families and my brother, and as the hours pass by, people come and go, and I accept empty condolences for something that hasn't happened, and that I'm still in denial off.

Richard arrives with Emeraude and her family, and it's noticeable how much our relationship has deteriorated for the past year when he instantly goes to grandmother Lorelai's side, and seems nonchalant and even bored about Mitchum's upcoming death. My blood boils. Emeraude runs to my side, and though I utter no words, she holds my hand and caresses my hair just I used to do when we were little and our age difference was palpable, when I was more of an older sister than a best friend, and she longed for comfort she couldn't get from her ever-travelling parents. Uncle Finn and Uncle Colin stand by Daddy as he takes endless phonecalls, and appear available to get him everything he needs. I decide to finally swallow my shame and call my fiancé when I see him rush through the Palace's main doors, and both of our families stand still for my unpredictable reaction. I gather his appearance, his dishelmed, just woke up hair, his beautiful brown eyes, his boyish features, and I run into his embrace, and it doesn't matter that we haven't spoken in months, or that I feel undeserving of his forgiveness, I embrace the fact that he's here for me, that he loves me, and that he feels my pain, because what is his is mine, and viceversa.

One by one, the salon empties.

First goes my grandma, who takes her time to go upstairs, and requests Honor to be with her as she prepares to part from her life partner. She never comes back down. I guess she locks herself in her private rooms to smoke and cry. Then goes auntie Honor, whose sobs I can listen even when she leaves the palace, anguished and in pain. My cousins just take a few minutes, and they rush out of the estate in their sports cars, probably going to rent the priciest suit money can afford for the funeral. Some business associates close to my grandpa go up and down in a blink, and then it's time for my siblings. Dylan's teary eyed and faintly crying when he comes back down, and Richard, surprisingly, has red eyes and I sad face on. My mother and father go in together, but I catch the sight of my mother waiting outside the door, while father and son cross words one last time. An hour goes by, then another. When Daddy comes back, the sun is setting and the house is pretty much empty, excepting grandma, my family and the doctor. When Daddy comes back, he doesn't go to my mother's arms, but instead engulfs me in a crushing hug, and I feel his hot tears on my shoulder, and I wonder what God gains from making a child console her own father. My parents decide to take Dylan to Stars Hollow for him to rest, and Richard goes with them. Daddy shares a look with my fiancé, and Adam turns around and kisses the heavens out of me, and then my family leaves me alone, and it's time for me up the stairs.

* * *

 _…_ _How does a moment last forever? How does our happiness endure?..._

The room is packed with the ultimate machinery, and when I open the door, I can listen my grandfather breathe through life support. He's lying on the left side of his king-sized swan feather mattress, and he's got a book between his weak hands, and as I approach him, I see that it isn't a novel that has got him so enterteained, but a photo album, my childhood photo album. He notices another presence in the room, and when he takes a look at me, his whole face lightens up, like a child on Christmas morning. I'm gonna fucking cry.

"My dearest Char," he says, and his voice is so soft I can barely hear him, "Come with my baby."

I can't talk, but I cross the room as quickly as my legs allow me and carefully kneel beside his bed.

"Hi Grandpa, how are you feeling?" I ask him and hold his hand, so cold yet so warm to my touch.

"Oh, you know I've been better child," his laugh turns into a cough and he puts his life support on again for a few minutes, when he's stabilized again, he speaks again, "But now that you're here with me I feel the best I can."

I can't hold my tears anymore, and I cry shamelessly against his chest, feeling so small and helpless at the sight of my once strong grandfather in his deathbed.

"Do not cry for me my love, tears ain't worth it."

I raise my eyes furiously, and blink as I rant.

"Don't you know by now that you're always fucking worthy Grandpa? I haven't given a damn my entire life about what anyone else thinks of you, and I'm not going to start now that you're leaving me."

There it is, the abandonment that has crept through my senses since I found out about him being sick. He's leaving me alone, and alive, and I can't stand a world without my grandpa.

"Please don't leave me," I plead him, and the Mitchum Huntzberger cries, not bawling like I am, but tears stream down his face in an unprecedent amount, "I don't think I can live in a world where you're not there to pick me up when I fall down."

My grandpa takes the photo album and opens it in what I think is his favorite picture.

 _It's 2025, I'm suddenly 8 and it's my birthday party at the palace, a beauty and the beast themed party. All my friends are there; mommy and daddy are chasing Ricky around for a picture, and I've got cake in my face for stuffing my mouth with it, and my yellow dress is dirty of soil and grass and food and candy but still, when grandpa arrives after work, I run towards him and mess up his pristine suit, but he doesn't care and neither do I, and in his increasing old age he still picks me up and carries me around the party, showing off to all the guest that I, his precious granddaughter, I'm all grown up and beautiful and his favorite person on earth. I kiss him on the cheek, and we're laughing and dancing to Ariana Grande and John Legend, and then my mother snaps a picture._

 _It's 2025 and I'm the happiest little girl._

It's 2040 and I'm the saddest woman alive.

"Remember how happy you were when I took you to Disneyland specially to buy your dress? You wore it for days straight afterwards and only took it off when I bought the blue peasant one too," he reminisces, and I laugh through the tears, and we start talking about all of our moments together, good, bad, sad, happy, special, and trivial. He compliments my jewelry, and lingers on my engagement ring, a sad look across his face.

"You're going to be the most radiant bride on the planet, and your wedding will be the event of the century," he states, and kisses the palm of my hand.

"You won't be with me when I walk down the aisle."

"I'll always be with you baby girl, as long as you remember me I'll always be with you."

He's silent for a few minutes, and then asks me to sing him our song. How does a moment last forever by Céline Dion. My voice is shaky and off-key and plain awful, but he starts to hum to the lyrics as I sing, and I swear to God, I'll never forget his expression, his love for me, the way he held my hand so tightly it hurt, and then, the moment he loosened his grip forever.

The moment he let go of my hand.

The moment his breathing stopped.

 _Minutes turn to hours, days to years then gone_

 _But when all else has been forgotten_

 _Still our song lives on…_

* * *

Later that night, my parents find me in the same kneeling position I've had for the past four hours, when I acknowledged my grandfather had died in my arms and our time together was over, and I called the doctor and I refused to talk to him and I went downstairs and hid in the broom closet, the exact same place I used to hid when Mitchum and I played hide-and-seek every Wednesday afternoon. Daddy touches my legs waiting for me to respond, but I don't feel like moving, I don't want to move, I can't move. I just murmur and murmur and murmur, and wonder, how does a moment last forever, and how can someone so special die, and how am I gonna get through this, but I can't think of any great solution for what's happening now, and for a moment I stop being Charlotte Huntzberger, Queen of Manhattan, the Huntzberger princess, the ever-powerful, the perfect girl, and become just Charlotte, whose grandfather just died, who dumped her fiancé, who's estranged from her mother, and feels lost in life.

I don't know what else to do.

So I just cry.


End file.
